


Orion's Belt

by reveusedeminuit



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: All Aboard the Kylo Ren Pain Train, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Anxiety, Author regrets nothing, Badass! Rey, But With Technology, Cyberpunk 2020, Cyberpunk 2077, Depression, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, Drug Addiction, Dubious Morality, Dystopia, Eye Sex, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Greylo, I mean sloooooow, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Lots of it, Mercenary! Kylo, Nihilism, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Kylo Ren, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Protective! Kylo, Rey Needs A Hug, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Techie! Rey, Touch-starved Kylo, Viva La Revolution, Yakuza, all of the cyberpunk tropes, attempts at worldbuilding, basically an excuse to wax poetic about kylo rens porg eyes, brief non-con/rape, death and the maiden tropes, everyone is kinda fucked up, frank mental health discussions, in character characterizations, loose retelling of canon until it's not, primal, smut incoming, touch-repulsed rey, two lonely nerds trying their best, very consensual reylo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveusedeminuit/pseuds/reveusedeminuit
Summary: Rey is a techie slave, forced to work for the local crime boss, Unkar Plutt, in the fringe of the Jakku Combat Zone. When two strange men appear in her shop, she is thrust suddenly into the middle of an ongoing war between the Resistance, an anti-fascist, ragtag gang of rebels, and the First Order, the militech corporation in charge of Coruscant. With a target on her back, she struggles to find a way to adapt to a brutal world filled with deadly tech and even more dangerous people. She can trust no one.Kylo Ren is a mercenary employed by the First Order, and is one cybernetic augmentation away from cyberpsychosis. The only things he cares about are picking off the Resistance one terrorist at a time, and fighting to maintain his tenuous link to humanity. His single-minded focus is shattered when he begins to hunt down Rey. He's going to have to make decisions he's not sure he's ready to make, for causes he doesn't know if he believes in.A tale of anti-heroes, forbidden love, half-baked political theory, philosophical musings, loss, redemption, and plenty of attitude.Based off of the tabletop rpg of Cyberpunk 2020, Shadowrun, and the released footage of the upcoming game, Cyberpunk 2077.





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyberpunk Glossary (taken from the sourcebook or online wiki):
> 
> Braindance: A sort of personal version of the Net. It is an immersive virtual reality.  
> Choomba: Friend, buddy.  
> Cleaner: An assassin (or team) used to eliminate all traces of a mission, including the participants.  
> Combat Zones: Areas of urban decay in major cities, characterized by high crime rates, unmaintained streets and buildings, poor police coverage, high  
> concentrations of homeless people, and frequent outbreaks of (often gang-related) violence.  
> Cyberpsychosis: A psychotic aberration suffered by excessive users of cyberware.  
> Cyberware/Cybernetics: Any bionic body implant which replaces or augments a specific body function.  
> Deltajock: A hotshot pilot.  
> Fixer: A go-between, deal maker, information broker. Also a fence or mover of illegal goods.  
> The Fringe: Edges of society where nomads hang out, barrens.  
> Gutterpunk A slang term for street riffraff.  
> Klepto, Kleptoid: Thief, prowler.  
> Mudgirl: Airborne rigger slang for a female non-flyer.  
> Parraquiano (spn): Lit. "a patron."  
> Porky: Someone who loves or collects weapons, and is usually bristling with them (from "porcupine").  
> Ripperdoc: A surgeon who specializes in implanting illegal or unregistered cyberware.  
> Streetmeat: A term for people not equiped to survive on the streets: hicks, sprawling suits, or involuntary meat puppets.  
> Techie: Range from technicians to cybernetic specialists. They are usually underground techies, who do "off-the-record" work.

The small Techie shop in the outskirts of the Jakku Combat Zone looked abandoned from the outside. The metal roof had almost rusted over completely. Several bolts and screws hung precariously far from the edges of the signs and walls, just waiting to give someone an infection. The sun had bleached most of the colour from everything in sight, leaving it a dull, monochromatic heap of scrap that looked haphazardly thrown together. The inside was surprisingly dark, given how blinding the sun was out here in the Edge.

Though the heat was stifling, there was no aircon or any fans to cool the storefront down. The shelves that lined the room were either filled to the brim, or completely bare, but all had a thin film of dust and sand collecting on top. The concrete floors were weathered and dusty, with a stray scorch mark here and there. The rusty stain of blood seeped into several cracks. Cyberhands, techscanners, blasters, detonation wires, and automappers took up a bulk of the shelves on the left side, while the rest of the shop was filled with basic survival gear, like canteens, water purification kits, basic medpacks, and toolkits. All of the tech out front was basic, having been scavenged by the slight girl, who was hunched over a cyberhand in the backroom.

The girl’s tanned skin glistened with perspiration, and the light arm bands she wore up to her shoulder had darkened with wear. Despite the darkness in the backroom, a black pair of goggles with a small flashlight attachment covered her eyes. The only illumination in the dark room came from a stack of security screens that showed the perimeter and inside of the shop, her flashlight, and the faded teal numbers from the clock that flickered on the wall. A pomegranate cigarette dangled between her plump lips. There was a single, small fan placed on top of the work desk, but it hardly provided any relief from the oppressive heat.

Thick brown fireproof gloves covered her hands, and she cursed their lack of dexterity. The wires inside the cyberfingers she worked on were getting smaller and smaller these days it seemed, but her bulky tools stayed the same. Pretty soon she was going to have to seriously consider getting a droid for the job, even though she knew she couldn’t afford one. Her owner, Plutt, would never allow it. Rey was too valuable for the Fixer to kill, but not valuable enough to provide for.

A small radio crackled on a small table to the left of her. Johnny Silverhand was singing about the Resistance, and how one day they were going to usurp the corps in power. Rey’s thoughts couldn’t help but drift with the fantasy. She wondered if her parents fought for the Resistance, and if that was why she was hiding out on the Fringe of Jakku. She wondered if they would ask her to fight alongside them when they finally rescued her from slavery. She always dreamed she would say yes.

A stray spark burned her exposed shoulder, and she muttered a curse under her breath. She focused on the task at hand, and soldered the base knuckle of the index finger to the cyber hand. The first knuckle and fingertip were sitting innocently on the table still. Rey checked for the thousandth time that the fingerbomb hadn’t somehow armed itself in the few seconds since she glanced away. After the knuckle had cooled, she gingerly picked up the fingerbomb, and slid it into place on the small platform that attached to it. When she heard the click of everything coming together, she sealed the finger into place. She picked up the SmartLink and jacked it in behind her ear.

The centre of her vision blurred with the hologram of the specs for the hand, along with a flashing green check indicating the successful connection to the SmartLink. With a thought, the fingers on the cyberhand flexed, and the wrist rotated. It felt fluid, as though she were moving her own hand. With a sigh of relief, she unplugged the Link, and placed the small chip onto the table. She took a long drag from her cigarette, before tapping the side of it twice to snuff it out.

For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she were to take the hand and run. Rey could sell it to a ripperdoc for a good amount of credits, then drive off on her speeder to Coruscant. How long would it take for Plutt to find her? How far could she go? Would she ever be able to live long enough to find out? While she was placing the hand into a steel, foam-lined case, her comm flickered to life, and Plutt’s ugly visage appeared in a hologram just in the corner of her vision.

“Is it ready, girl?” Plutt sneered. The only thing that wasn’t cyber on the man’s face was his mouth and jaw. His eyes, nose, and forehead had been replaced by cyberoptic tech that glowed yellow.

“Yes,” She replied, her tone neutral.

“About time. I’ll send someone over in an hour to retrieve it. If it looks good enough, I may even give you a full portion tonight,” the Fixer grumbled. Rey wasn’t foolish enough to believe him, and said nothing. Plutt ended the call, and she flicked off the corner where it looked like he was. Fuck him and his “generosity”, she mentally spat. She leaned back in her chair, propped her feet on the corner of the desk, and flung her goggles off onto the counter. Her brown eyes flickered to the clock, and she sighed. It was an hour until nightfall, which meant she’d be going home in the dark again. Still, the promise of food kept her from being too resentful. She hadn’t eaten anything all day. She’d been hungry for so long that she couldn’t remember what it felt like to have an appetite.

Rey walked over to a small storage cabinet that squatted low beside a blacked-out window. She rifled through the pile of small chips she had been cultivating over the years. There were only a handful, but they meant everything to her. She chose the one that was the most weathered from use, and was hardly longer than her fingernail.

“Set timer for forty-five minutes,” she commanded to her comm.

“Confirmed. Timer set for forty-five minutes,” the mechanical voice of a woman replied.

Rey settled back in her worn chair, and propped her feet up once more. She slid in a small chip, the Braindance, and got comfortable. It took nearly thirty seconds to load, a testament to how old and worn it had become. Her vision was suddenly flooded with the bright morning sun that beat down on her skin. It was less harsh than the sun she was used to out in Jakku, and instead of burning her skin, it felt pleasantly warmed. The crisp smell of earth flooded her nostrils, while a light breeze tousled the strands of hair that escaped from her three loose buns. A small grin pulled at her plush lips as she closed her eyes, just basking in the smells and sounds. The caw of a bird echoed distantly. When she opened her eyes again, her brown gaze darted immediately to the massive canyon that split the earth for miles.

The Grand Canyon. She'd never been before, and with the lingering nuclear devastation from a war long passed, it was likely that it didn't look nearly as captivating as the view before her now did. Rey couldn't find it within herself to care. She stood atop the massive chasm and felt freedom twitch in her fingertips and fill her lungs. She looked to her left and finally acknowledged the glinting ship that sat precariously close to the edge of the cliff. She pulled the keys from her pocket as the small smile grew to overtake her face.

Rey may have never been to the Grand Canyon, and she may have never flown an actual ship, but she knew with absolute certainty that she would never feel as free as she did when she was flying. The Braindance was glitchy at times, and if she overworked the processor, which was often, then it had the tendency to lag. Rey didn't care. Nothing could ruin her immersion from a place that looked and felt as liberating as this did.

When the timer buzzed, Rey was startled back into reality. She was breathless from the exhilaration, and her blood raced from the adrenaline. It took her a few moments for her limbs to stop shaking from the rush, before she could move again. With some reluctance, she ejected the Braindance from her skull, and placed it back in the storage cabinet. Rey sighed, grabbed the case for the hand, and glanced at the security cams out of habit. She froze.

Two men were in the front of her shop, an aerojock and an ex-military guy if their appearance was any indication. She watched them for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. They didn’t look like customers, not that she got many of those anyway, since they were talking to each other by the windows. They didn’t look like Plutt’s men either, since they had a distinct lack of cybernetic augmentations. The ex-military one peered through the shutters to the sandy street beyond, while the pilot gestured to the small rack of blasters.

Kleptoids then.

Rey breathed deep, then grabbed her Goncz-Taurus blaster and slid it into the holster on her belt. She breathed deep, pressed the button, and raised her blaster as the the door slid open.

“What’s your business here, thieves?” She demanded, in what she considered her most threatening tone. The two men whipped around at the sound of her voice, and both of their eyes darted comically between her face and her autopistol, before raising their hands in the air.

“Hold on there, mudgirl, you don’t understand,” the pilot said. Now that she had a good look at the two men, they looked terrible. Dirt, sand, and blood stained their clothes, and sweat slicked their skin. The dark-skinned, ex-soldier wore an all black shirt and pants, with black combat boots covered in grimy white armour. A brown leather jacket was draped on his shoulders, but his arms were free from the sleeves. Rey couldn’t see any weapons on him, which surprised her. He must have a synth-skin covering his cyber then. It was the only explanation she could think of, which made him more dangerous. The latino pilot on the other hand, was wearing his helmet and visor, with a logo so faded she couldn’t make it out. His orange jumpsuit was tied around his waist, with a white t-shirt that was nearly transparent from perspiration. They obviously weren’t accustomed to the heat. City-folk then.

Haggard appearance or not, she didn’t trust them.

“Switch off, deltajock. What the fuck is your business here?” She snapped, refusing to lower her blaster.

“This how you treat all your _parraquiano’s_?” The pilot smirked. He looked calm despite the fact that she was pointing a gun in his face. She squeezed the handle tighter, even as her palms slicked. He wasn’t at all intimidated. This was not how she wanted this to go.

“You’re not customers,” she said.

“And you’re not being very hospitable,” the pilot snarked. Her patience thinned down to the bone.

“Do you have any idea who runs this shop, flyboy?” she sneered. The pilot made a point of looking around, with an expression of innocent confusion on his face.

“Sure as shit ain’t a maid,” he smirked. Rey glared at the man.

“Unkar Plutt does. And he has a couple of guys on his way here right now. If you don’t get the fuck out, then they’ll _take_ you out. Understand, choomba?” she explained. The ex-military guy had the sense to look scared. The pilot still just looked amused.

“Poe, stop being a dick. We need her help,” the ex-military guy pleaded with his friend.

“Why do you need my help?” she asked, brow scrunched in confusion. The pilot, Poe, sighed.

“We need a place to hide out for ten minutes or so. We won’t take anything, and we won’t interfere with your…business,” the ex-military guy explained.

“Give me one good reason why I should risk my skin to save you,” she demanded.

“We can get you credits,” he offered.

“How much?”

“Enough,” Poe said. Rey thought it over, while she took in the men’s drab appearances.

“I don’t want your stolen money,” she said at last.

“Not even if it’s stolen from the bad guys?” Poe asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Think you’re Robin Hood, flyboy?” she snarked, “I don’t want your dirty credits. And I don’t want anything to do with you. Now if you don’t wanna be a meat puppet, then I’d suggest you fucking _leave_.”

“Look mudgirl, we really need a place to hide. We just need ten minutes to comm our guys at The Advocate, and they’ll come back us up and get us out of here. Please, if you have any love for the Resistance, then help us,” Poe pleaded. His dark eyes looked serious, and for once he didn’t have a trace of amusement on his face. Rey blinked at him.

“You’re with the Resistance?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide with shock.

“Yes, we are,” the ex-military guy agreed earnestly.

“Prove it,” she demanded, though she lowered her gun slightly. Poe slowly lowered his hands and tugged at the collar of his shirt to show an orange and white light tattoo of the Resistance’s insignia. Rey gasped, and her grip on her blaster trembled. Her breath seemed to escape her lungs in a whoosh, while her heart pounded. They were members of the Resistance. Actual living members. She’d always dreamed of meeting them before. She could hardly contain her excitement.

“Will you help us?” The ex-military guy asked, his soft brown eyes pleading. Rey lowered her gun completely.

“Alright, but you have to listen to everything I say, and answer all of my questions. Got it?” She looked pointedly between the two men. They nodded in agreement.

“Okay, so who are you hiding from?” she asked.

“Bounty hunters,” the ex-military guy answered.

“Who just so happen to be a part of the Yakuza,” Poe smiled sheepishly.

“Excuse me? Are you having a genuine fucking laugh?” Rey asked incredulously. The two men had the decency to look guilty.

“We wouldn’t be so desperate if the guys were small-time,” Poe tried to explain. Rey just rolled her eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she muttered, “You guys’ll have to hide in the back. Follow me.” She turned around and opened the door to the workroom, and beckoned for the two men to enter. She slapped the lights on in the corner, and thin strips of LEDs near the ceiling flickered wearily to life. She gestured to the ladder that lead to the loft above. A sleeping bag, a couple of blankets, and a change of clothes were stored up there for whenever Plutt made her work all night in the shop.

“Up you get. If you hide further back, there’s a vent there that sometimes confuses thermal scanners. Make sure to cover yourselves with the blankets, and try to lay as horizontal as possible,” she explained. She maneuvered the bed so it was closer to the edge of the loft, and hid the two men from the ground below. She glanced back over at the large and lumpy pile of blankets and bit her lip. They weren’t very subtle.

“I’ll be downstairs. If you hear any blaster-fire, then you’ll know that your cover is blown, and I’m probably dead. Make sure the Resistance gets here sooner than that,” she half-joked.

“Thank you, honestly. We’ll make sure the Resistance compensates you for all of your trouble,” Poe said.

“You know, I’ve never met any Resistance fighters before,” she said wistfully, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Well this is what we look like,” the ex-military guy said, “well, some of us. Others look different. Obviously.” Rey had to fight the growing smile.

“I’m Rey,” she said after a beat.

“I’m Poe, and this here,” Poe clapped the ex-military guy on the shoulder, “is Finn.”

She nodded towards them, before she descended the ladder. She glanced at the security screens, and watched as two men approached the outside of the store. Their chrome-covered skin and neon techhair gave them away. The two lanky porkies had at least three different kinds of guns strapped along their backs, with grenades dangling from their belts. The one with a blue mohawk had a cyberarm, while the one with the lime-green mullet had both limbs augmented. Plutt’s men had finally arrived. Rey breathed deep and grabbed the case with the cyberhand, before going out into the storefront. She made a point of closing the door to the workshop behind her.  
She just placed the case on the counter when the door swung open. The two men leered at her with flashing eyes, before they lumbered forward.

“Yo, pinkskin. You got what we need?” Mohawk asked. Mullet leered at her, making a point of checking her out.

“I think she does, Rex,” he snickered. Rey glared at the both of them. She opened the case to show them the cyberhand.

“The hand is Keroshi tech. It’s SmartLinked with a fingerbomb in the index finger and a two inch knife that slides out of the palm. The bomb’s got a five second delay, and a fifteen foot blast radius. It’s heat-safe up to four hundred degrees, but it may lock up in sub-zero temperatures. Scanner in the palm links with your guns so that they can only be used by you,” she said, explaining the specs to the two gangbangers.

“Looks pretty to me. I’m gonna try it out,” Mohawk said greedily. He grabbed at his cyberarm and twisted it off, before she could protest. He picked up the hand and began to switch it into place, when the door banged open again. Four large Japanese men with more guns and tech than limbs crowded into the small shop. Fear froze her blood. She knew how to deal with the gutterpunks, since they were too stupid to do any real harm, but the Yakuza were a merciless and highly organised lot.

“What the shit’er you Yaks doin’ here?” Mohawk asked, pausing in his movement. Mullet beside him reached for his shotgun. The smallest of the four Yakuza, who still dwarfed her and Plutt’s men, stepped forward. Before she could even blink, he raised the largest gun she’d ever seen, and fired.

Rey ducked down behind the counter, and grabbed the steel case as a shield of sorts. The deafening bang of the gun firing in rapid succession reverberated in her skull. Rey’s heart raced, and her hands shook as she grabbed the hand’s SmartLink chip and shoved it into the slot behind her ear. The skin pinched in her haste, but she ignored it. At the wet squelch of bodies hitting the cement, her hands shook and her blood raced. Rey grabbed the cyberhand, unlatched the bomb, set the timer for five seconds, and threw it over the counter. She raced to the backroom and slammed the button on the door to slide them shut.

As she ran to the other side of the backroom, the detonation of the bomb rocked the foundation of the shop. The security screens all shattered and fell to the ground as the wall separating the shop from the back caved in. Everything in her body flared with pain as she slammed into the ground from the force of the blast. She heaved herself onto her back, her arms protesting with the effort. She glanced through the new opening between the two rooms, and her eyes widened at the devastation. Fire climbed the walls, and most of the shelves and counter lay in fractured pieces that littered the floor. There were chunks of the men’s remains, but nothing identifiably human. Her ears rang, and she wondered if she would ever be able to hear normally again.

“Rey! Rey!” a muffled voice called behind her. It sounded like it was calling her from outside of a bubble. Her head lolled back at the sound. She watched through bleary eyes as Finn jumped down from the loft, and ran towards her.

“Rey! Are you okay?” He asked, his soft eyes full of concern as he looked for injuries. She nodded until a sharp pain stabbed at the back of her neck.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said after a moment of effort. Her body protested as she gingerly sat up, while her eyes took stock of her body for injuries. Finn went to reach for her arm to help her up, but she instinctually swatted his hand away. She didn’t realise what she’d done until after her arm lashed out, so she flashed him an apologetic smile. Nobody had ever asked her if she was okay before, and she didn’t anticipate how much she’d appreciate it until now. But she also wasn’t used to people touching her either, and she was pretty sure she wanted to keep it that way.

“Can you walk?” Poe asked, clambering up to them. His dark eyes were fixed on the growing blaze, and his mouth was set in a grim line of determination.

“Yeah,” Rey said, struggling to her feet. She tested out her weight on her legs, and sighed in relief when nothing felt out of place.

“Good, ‘cause we gotta get out of here. Now,” Poe urged.

“Door?” Finn asked, while looking wildly at the walls of the room. Rey walked up to the window near the storage cabinet. She grabbed her pistol from her belt and swung the handle into the glass as hard as she could. The shattering of the glass was barely discernible above the blaze behind them. Moonlight streamed in through the fractured remains.

“Does this work?” Rey asked, turning to the other men.

“Good enough for me,” Poe said. The pilot helped her clear out the rest of the glass. She leapt through the window the moment it was as safe as it would ever be. The two resistance members followed soon thereafter.

“Follow me,” Poe beckoned to her and Finn. His dark pupils reflected the map he had pulled up on his comm.

Rey and Finn hurried after the pilot. The oppressive heat from the day was gone, and the crisp, biting chill to the air felt like a soothing balm on her sweat-slicked skin. She followed the two strangers beside her, and she wondered if she was making the right choice. Would her parents still be able to find her if she no longer had a shop of her own? She wondered if Plutt would track her down in hours or days, and what she would do if that happened. Rey glanced behind her as her shop was swallowed completely by the flames. A strange satisfaction warmed her. Even with her doubts, she felt lighter. She turned to the two strangers again, and they crested over a sand dune. The signature x-wing ships escorting a single GMI Hovertransport filled her view. The lightness in her chest gave way to a smile. She’d always wondered what it would be like to escape on a Resistance mission. As she ran into the transport, and strapped herself in tight, she took in the weary, but determined faces around her, all wearing the tell-tale rebel insignia, and she felt happy for the first time in years. For the first time in her life, Rey was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever reylo fic, and the first fan fiction I've written in years. This is also unbeta'd so please forgive any glaring spelling or grammar mistakes. If you are interested in becoming a beta, please let me know! I'd love to hear some feedback. Let me know if you need any clarification as well. This is my first time writing cyberpunk (though I'm no stranger to sci-fi), so I've been trying to place an emphasis on world building. This fic will also switch back and forth between POV, so the next chapter will be Kylo's, but overall it will be more Rey-centric. Please let me know what you guys think so far! 
> 
> Also, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that the idea for cyberpunk reylo was inspired by Cosmogonika's fic, Dystopia, which I highly recommend you go check out if you haven't already. 
> 
> Until next time, cheers!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyberpunk Glossary:  
> Ballerina: A reflex boosted female assassin in the employ of a major corp  
> Biomonitor: A favorite of Solos and Corporates, this is an under-skin display mounted on the forearm. It provides a real-time readout of common body functions like heart rate,blood pressure, blood chemistry, brainwave activity, temperature, cholesterol levels and a number of other bodily functions.  
> Advanced Biomonitor: A more detailed version of the common biomonitor. The readout is not limited to a forearm display, as it can be fed into cyberoptics or broadcast to a remote receiver. It is most often used by militaries or corporations who want to monitor troops/workers remotely. The transmitter has a range of a about a mile.  
> Bioroid: A full-body conversion cyborg.  
> Bleed: To attack, injure, or kill.  
> Gomi: Junk, garbage. Japanese slang term for any site that has been reclaimed and built on.  
> Guardian Angel: Solo (see below) on a bodyguard job. (Syn. "bullet-stopper".)  
> HUD: Heads Up Display. Think of the features in a video game that tell the player all of the relevant information at all times on screen. Or like the Iron man suit.  
> Kuromaku: A fixer. Lit. "one who arranges.” From the operator of puppets who stands behind a black stage.  
> Oyabun: Head of a Yakuza clan.  
> Pinkskin: A rural-dwelling white or non- Amerind, who affects a low-tech lifestyle  
> Ronin: A freelance assassin or mercenary. Usually considered to be untrustworthy.  
> Solo: A mercenary who works the streets. A "for-hire" combat specialist. Used as bodyguards, assassins, and soldiers, individually or in groups.  
> Trauma Team: A kind of premium, militarized health insurance  
> Trog: Short for troglodyte. A derogatory term meant to indicate that an individual is subhuman or extremely ugly or misshapen.  
> Wakarimasu-ka?: Lit. "do you understand?"  
> Wetwork: Assassination. Murder.

There was something beautiful about destruction, the mercenary in black thought, as he approached the end of the street. Flames flared high into the star-studded sky above. The crumbling remains of a dilapidated techie shop stood seconds away from collapse. The roof had entirely caved in, and most of the walls had been blown to bits along the dusty street. The mercenary surveyed the border of the explosion and the modest crowd that had gathered to watch. There was something about the reflection of the blaze in their curious, wide eyes that made him resent them. Pinkskins, living out in the wilds of the Fringe, constantly fighting to the death for scraps of junk.

They disgusted him.

A group of stormtroopers stood to attention just beside the perimeter of the blaze, two of which were trying to subdue the angry Yakuza boss, Hitoshi Hutt. The boss’s only visible cyberware was his golden mechanical arm, and his burning red right eye. The mercenary’s own military-grade cyberware he kept hidden beneath a layer of subdurmal armour and fleshweave. It was better to keep the enemy in the dark, then to show off what tech he had. And if it weren't for the skin, he'd appear more bioroid than man. As he stepped towards the boss, the stormtroopers hung back and awaited his command.

“ _Ronin_ ," he spat, "the Resistance has killed three of my men! _Three!_  The First Order promised to have them taken care of months ago! What the fuck am I even paying you for?” The incensed boss shouted. Kylo Ren stopped before the Yakuza man, dwarfing him. Hutt shrank back, his protests dying on his lips.

The mercenary looked like a wraith emerging from the darkness. His black hood was pulled low over his head, and the harsh metallic reflection of the blaze beyond glinted in his dark mask. The faceless covering was all sharp black angles, metallic jaw, and two thin strips of metal slashing through where the eyes should be. His outfit was black, fitted, and completely tactical. Lightweight, black amour covered his broad shoulders and the thick expanse of his chest. Beneath the armour, he wore a black leather jacket with several straps along his forearms. His hands were clad in dark gloves with sensory pads in the fingertips. A utility belt slung low across his waist, hanging lowest where his blaster and laser sword were strapped to his hip. His dark pants were also strapped, but otherwise fitted, and his combat boots were heavy atop the shifting sands.

Not including the two visible weapons, he could bleed a man in twenty different ways with just his right arm.

Kylo Ren was a walking nightmare.

It was unsurprising when several of the Yakuza's guardian angels raised their guns towards the mercenary as he came closer. He didn’t spare the gangbangers a thought.

“Survivors?” He inquired, ignoring Hutt’s outburst. His voice was deep, and came through the mask with a gravely, mechanical distortion. The _oyabun_ beckoned towards one of his men, and shouted something in Japanese at him. His lackey presented him with a case of cigars, which the boss inhaled with desperation. Kylo noticed that the Yakuza's mechanical hand was trembling. 

“One man,” he answered.

“Where?” Kylo asked, his gaze scanning the dirty and derelict street. Jakku was a shithole, and he’d forgotten how much of one at that. The crowd of onlookers was growing larger. It set his teeth on edge.

“Just over there. Trauma Team will be here to pick him up in three minutes. His biomon fried in the blast, and damaged his signal,” the boss explained between puffs of smoke.

“Take me to him,” Kylo commanded. It was a testament to the First Order’s hold over the Yakuza, that Hutt allowed himself to be ordered around. Kylo could see by the tension in the boss’s face, and the tight clench of his mechanical fist, that he hated it. He almost smirked behind his mask.

Hutt lead him to a charred flesh of meat that lay in the sand. Both of his legs, and his arm were missing, as well as most of his skin and hair. The man was unconscious. Kylo crouched beside the torso, and lifted the bottom of his right leather glove. A livewire snaked out from beneath the base of his wrist, before jacking in to the man’s biomonitor. A number of critical warnings and flashes of Mishima Kojima’s condition lit up Kylo’s field of vision. He ignored them. Numerous records popped up one after the other, offering up every inch of the man’s history from his social security number and his credit card information to his criminal record.

Kylo flipped through these quickly, but not without a passing thought of stealing the information for later use. He’d stolen millions for the First Order, it would be quick and easy. He resisted the compulsion. The Yakuza getting drawn out to the Jakku Combat Zone was of a higher priority. With that in mind, Kylo located the memory file on the man’s biomon and, with a harsh mental shove, pushed his way into the man’s mind. 

_Red walls, checkered marble floors, gold accents, and glistening jewels. The decadence of the Red Study within the Hutt mansion was obscured by a nearly opaque cloud of cigar smoke. The centerpiece of the room was a massive, round, walnut table, with gold trim, around which fourteen other men stood with pinched faces and trigger-happy fingers. Three men were seated at the table itself; the boss and the two terrorists, who stared down one another in tense silence. Kojima looked on closely, and waited for the boss’s signal._

_“Tell me, Mr. Dameron,” Hutt began, a wicked gleam in his cyber-eye, “did the General tell you about our shared history?” Hutt’s smile was like oil on water. It felt unnatural, and sent a shiver down Kojima’s spine. Dameron’s face pinched, but he smirked._

_“She told me she kicked your ass when she was nothing but a kid in a gold bikini,” his reply was light, but sharp. Kojima gripped his blaster tighter in his palm. He would fucking love to put a hole in the bastard’s head for treating the boss with such blatant disrespect. But he had to wait for a signal. Hutt’s smile dropped, and he sat upright. The multitude of rings that adorned his fingers glinted in the light as he slowly undid the top three buttons of his red shirt. Above a thick gold chain that rested along his collarbone, was harsh, white scar tissue that wrapped around the base of the boss’s neck. He leaned forward, as if to give the terrorists a better view. The boss raised his cigar to his lips, and glared pure malice towards the two rebels._

_“Forty years ago, the general tried to kill me with my own chain. Forty years ago, I swore I would kill her if I ever crossed paths with her again. Now you come in here, requesting aid on her behalf,” he paused, allowing his words to sink in as he took another drag, “Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do?”_

_The dark-skinned one swallowed nervously, while Dameron glared back at the boss._

_“If I were in your shoes, I’d put aside whatever bullshit happened forty years ago and help out the Resistance now, because it’s the right thing to do,” Dameron said, his voice fervent and passionate. His companion looked up at him with wide eyes. Kojima didn’t realize that he’d aimed his blaster between the bastard pilot’s eyes until Hutt raised his mechanical arm in a sign to hold fire. With a glare, Kojima lowered his weapon, and continued to wait. Hutt chuckled low, before smoking his cigar. He exhaled the smoke from his nostrils, with a sharp smile on his lips._

_“You speak of doing the right thing, yet you slaughter my men and my women in the streets in the name of liberty. You stand behind a bloodthirsty general who is motivated by her own personal agenda. I give lost children a home and raise them to become warriors. You’ve come into that home to beg for weapons, disrespect me, and still think you can lecture me?” The boss’s slow laugh was cruel, and Kojima’s blood ran cold. The dark-skinned man had gone still now. Dameron was seething, but stayed quiet._

_“If you want to pick a fight in this town, Mr. Dameron, you better pick wisely. Especially if it’s on behalf of the General,” Hutt sneered._

_“I have chosen wisely. I consider myself a patriot, so I can’t in good conscience stand behind an organization that advocates totalitarianism and fascism. The General will help liberate this city and bring it back to its former glory. With your tech there's a chance we could do that. There's plenty of credits to be made in a deal like this,”Dameron intoned, his dark eyes glinting._

_“You don't know what you're talking about, do you?" Hutt asked, his cyber eye flashing in amusement, "The General would get rid of my family within her first month in power. I see no reason to side against the interests of my people. I’m a busy man, Mr. Dameron, and I have several things that need my attention much more than you and your little friends do.” The dismissal was clear. The deal was off. Dameron got up in a huff, and glared at Hutt. The other terrorist stayed seated, his fierce gaze locked onto the Yakuza boss._

_“It’s only a matter of time before the First Order wipes you out too. Snoke is only using you for your influence over the city. Enjoy your power while you can,” he said calmly. The boss paused, and seemed to look at the man as though he were seeing him for the first time. He took a long drag from his cigar, sizing him up._

_“What do you know?” Hutt asked._

_“He doesn’t know shit. Finn, buddy, come on, let’s go,” Dameron pleaded. He grabbed Finn by the shoulder, and turned to leave. The boss’s gaze flicked over towards Kojima, and in an instant, the Yakuza blocked the terrorists exit._

_“Tell me what you know,” Hutt demanded, “now.” His threat was palpable in the air between them._

_Dameron spun around and stalked towards Hutt. His eyes were blazing in anger._

_“You son of a bitch. You promised you wouldn’t try to fuck us if we came to negotiate,” he seethed._

_“Your naïvety is so amusing,” the boss smiled wide, showing off his shining golden teeth, and looked to Finn, “I’m not going to repeat myself, boy._ Wakarimasu-ka _?_ _”_

_Finn looked between Dameron and the boss, a quiet resolution steeling over his features. He said nothing. The silence between them stretched thick and taut. After a minute, the boss’s cybered gaze slid over to Kojima. He knew what he had to do._

_He raised his gun and fired._  

The shootout that ensued mattered very little to Kylo. He skimmed through the fight, trying to pinpoint exactly when they moved locations. The two terrorists had managed to slip through the Yakuza’s fingers and lead them out to the shithole he stood in now. A small, dark voice in the back of his mind wanted to watch the fight unfold, to revel in it. He ignored it. When he saw the remnants of the burning storefront pre-explosion, he dove back into the man’s memories. 

  _Kojima stalked forward first. Madarame tagged three meat sacks inside the small shop. He loaded the heavy Arasaka “PMS” Submachine gun with practiced ease. He nodded to Kamoshida to his left, and the Yakuza barged into the small shop. Kojima didn’t think, and instead finally gave in to the twitch in his fingers and fired. The third person, a girl, dropped behind the counter. The two men dropped to the ground. Gore splattered harsh strokes of crimson across the monochromatic shop. The butchered bodies didn’t look human. Kojima stopped firing for a beat._

_A small metallic clang sounded a few feet away from him. The Yakuza’s eyes widened in fear as he recognized the small blinking bomb resting on the ground._

_With a deafening boom, everything went black._

Kylo blinked and came back into his own mind. He unhooked the connection to Kojima’s biomon with little finesse. He dropped the charred remains of the Yakuza’s head with a dull thud. His _HUD_ indicated that two minutes had passed since connecting. The Yakuza would be dead before Trauma Team could collect him. Kylo rose to his feet and stalked back through the shifting sands to Hutt’s entourage, rage coiling his muscles tight. His gloved hands were clenched into tight fists by his side. The small dark voice was angry at him for not giving in to it. The thick muscles in his arms twitched. He tried to ignore it. 

Kylo recognized the two terrorists that the Yakuza were hunting. FN-2187, a deserter of the First Order Stormtrooper program, and the infamous Poe Dameron, ace aerojock for the Resistance. Kylo felt his fury swell in his blood. The pilot’s arrogance was bound to catch up with him soon, and if Kylo had his way, it would be by his own hand. He also had no respect for any deserter of a cause, and even less for cowards. But that had to be put on hold.

His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out how to deal with the glaring and overwhelming incompetence of the Yakuza. For such a well regarded crime syndicate their negotiations left a lot to be desired, and the mere fact that they’d allowed two resistance members to escape from their main stronghold was inexcusable. Not to mention that the dead man lying in the sand hadn't even bothered to figure out whether or not the two men inside the shop were the terrorists before opening fire. Snoke would be furious. Kylo already was. Plus the traitor let it slip that Snoke had plans to take the Yakuza out, so Hutt would retaliate if not dealt with properly. And the two terrorists were still missing.

 _Three now_ , Kylo corrected himself. The girl hadn’t been accounted for. He felt his fists clench tighter. He needed to find out who she was. If he dealt with the Yakuza quickly, then he could devote more energy into hunting her down. With a developing plan in mind, he reached the boss.

Perspiration collected along Hutt’s brow, which he hastily dabbed at with a handkerchief. An odd practice from an archaic time, Kylo thought. The blaze of the shop reflected off of his golden arm.

“The girl who worked at this place, who was she?” Kylo asked. He scowled behind his mask. His distorted voice sounded too eager in his ears. Hutt didn't seem to notice. 

“It’s a _Kuromaku_ shop. Unkar Plutt’s. Heard he has a slave. Might be her behind the counter,” he answered. Kylo felt a flash of ire. He recognized the fixer's name. Plutt was known for being as stupid as he was sadistic. The only reason Snoke hadn't taken care of him already was because he was too small time to be worth the trouble. Until now.

“Where will I find him?” he asked.

“Just down the road. You’ll know his place when you see it. It’s the only _gomi_ with any decent electric in this junkyard,” Hutt explained. Kylo nodded at the Yakuza boss, and began to walk away. His focus was single-minded. He needed her identity.

“Wait a minute! The First Order needs to compensate me for this! I need more men! And I want my fucking money back!” Hutt demanded. Kylo inclined his head over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around to fully address the Yakuza boss.

“The First Order will take care of it,” he cooly assured the other man. He looked towards the stormtroopers who dutifully awaited his command.

“Kill them all,” Kylo Ren ordered.

The sounds of blaster fire ricocheted in the desert night. Kylo walked purposefully back to his Upsilon-Class, Thunderhawk ship. The sleek and imposing Militech shuttle looked out of place amidst the sand and rusted metal beyond. His heavy boots clanked solidly on the metal ramp as he began to board.

That was when he felt the bullet hit his shoulder.

It slashed through his thick coat, and grazed his right arm. It tore through his synthskin, exposing the metal and wires beneath.

Kylo felt no pain. He felt rage.

Heat flared inside of his veins as his blood raced. His vision darkened to red. Thick muscles coiled tight. He was a man possessed as he pivoted on his heel and stalked towards the fallen Yakuza boss. Blood seeped from Hutt’s thigh onto the sand below. His blaster was still smoking. Kylo’s fury tasted like ash. He loomed over the other man, who trembled at his feet. The dark voice in the back of his head was thrilled, whispering a mantra of _kill, kill, kill._  Kylo saw no reason to refuse it. He unclipped his weapon from his belt, and the familiar handle of the crossguard laser sword felt like an extension of his arm. He ignited the crackling red plasma blade, with sputtering twin quillions, and watched the boss’s eyes widen in reddened terror. Without hesitation, he raised his blade and swung down in a forceful arc into the man’s torso. The thrill of the hunt sang in his veins.

Hutt didn’t have enough time to scream.

Kylo stepped over Hutt’s remains carelessly. His breathing was laboured with his exhilaration. For the briefest moment, he thought of his mother. A hollow cavity burned in his chest at her memory. He shook his head violently to banish the thought of her from his mind. After Kylo composed himself, he turned to the tall, silver-haired ballerina, Phasma, to his left.

“Prepare the body,” Kylo commanded. Phasma nodded in acquiescence, before turning to command her troops. The boss’s ash would be the latest addition to his ever-expanding collection. That was the second head of a crime family he’d killed in a month. A new record, to be certain. Snoke liked the city in chaos, as it allowed him to maintain his iron grip of control that much easier. Kylo's Lord provided stability and certainty in a world devoid of both. His empire was for the better of the city. Once the Resistance was entirely snuffed out, Kylo could expand his efforts outwards. Snoke was talking governance, and Kylo had no doubts that he desired presidency by the end of the next five years. It was his’s mission to ensure his Lord got there.

He sauntered up to the pilots in his ship, who sat silently waiting for his command.

“Find Plutt,” he ordered. The pilot immediately began typing in the fixer’s name into the database set into the console of the small jet. In moments, they were flying through the air at breakneck speed. The journey to the fixer’s home took forty-five seconds in total. The ramshackle hovel was indeed easier on the eyes than the surrounding tents and scrap piles, though not by much. Every light in his home was on, and Kylo wouldn’t put it past the fixer to overuse electricity if it meant depriving it to the rest of the Zone. He was a greedy shit like that, or so he’d heard. Kylo activated his optical scanner, and surveyed the exterior of the building for any kind of hidden surveillance system. The distinct lack of visible security was surprising, but just spoke to Plutt's arrogance. Kylo kept his guard up, just in case. A group of stormtroopers flanked him as he exited the jet. At his command, one stepped forward to knock down the front door.

“You’ve gotta have some titanium _fucking_ balls to break into my home, motherfucker,” A bellowing voice threatened. Kylo walked into the small, but surprisingly updated, living space. He heard the heavy, lumbering stomp of the fixer, before he barged into the room.

“The fuck is going on?” The obese man with more cyber than face brandished a dated Tekk shotgun towards the First Order troops. His left arm was cyber from the elbow down, with his fingers sharpened to claws. Kylo luxuriated in the swirl of fear and resentment he could practically smell off of the man once he recognized who he was pointing his gun at. He sauntered up to Plutt, and beckoned with two gloved fingers to his troops. A couple of stormtroopers walked up behind the fixer, and roughly grabbed the shotgun from his meaty hands. They patted the trog down, before they kicked out his legs. He crashed hard to his knees with a grunt.

“The fuck is the meaning of this shit? I ain't done nothing wrong,” The fixer pleaded. Kylo said nothing. Instead, he pulled the edge of his glove down again, and his livewire jacked into the fixer’s biomon. Plutt cried out in agony at the intrusion, his garbled yells piercing the otherwise silent room. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the sound. That small dark voice in the back of his brain certainly did. Kylo ignored the irrelevant information that displayed in his  _HUD_. He didn't find anything about a girl. She must've been an underground slave then. He narrowed his eyes at the thought, his fingers twitching.

Kylo jacked into Plutt's memories with a brutal shove, and the sharp cries of pain emitting from the fat trog grew louder. He rifled through the fixer’s memories, nearly rolling his eyes at the man's insipid thoughts. They fixated on the same things over and over again; drugs, money, women, and murder. It was incredibly tiresome. All fixers were the fucking same.

Then, the girl’s face appeared. He paused the memory, and Kylo felt his breath catch. He admired her for longer than he should’ve. He took in the fiery defiance glinting in her warm almond eyes, and the firm set of her plush lips. A light dusting of freckles speckled her sun-kissed skin and dainty nose. She was a slim thing, because of the starvation she endured as a slave, but Kylo saw the strength in her limbs all the same.

The girl. _Rey_. The beautiful terrorist with a tracker in her neck.

He would hunt her first.

He had his information, and, rationally, he knew he should disconnect now. But he didn't. If he was to track her, he needed to know more about her, he reasoned. He deftly skimmed Plutt’s memories of her, and felt disgust harden into a lead ball in his stomach. Kylo couldn’t help but hate the sadistic fuck for what he put her through. She was an abandoned child thrust unwillingly into a life of slavery and darkness. Kept isolated and in misery, and deprived of life's most simple pleasures.

Kylo tried desperately to ignore how much he related to that.

He did not linger in any one specific memory, despite his strange longing to get to know more about her. He didn't trust himself to. Kylo unplugged from Plutt’s biomon with a sudden click, and the fat man heaved forward to the ground. Plutt finally stopped screaming, but the silence that lingered rang louder in Kylo's enhanced ears. Plutt's meaty claws clutched desperately at his head, and his massive chest rose and fell quickly from his laboured breath.

Kylo had been told that the experience of someone jacking into your biomon unwillingly was akin to torture. He certainly hoped so. He grabbed Plutt by his cyberoptics, and pulled his mangled face forward. He reached behind the man’s ear, and felt for the groove of the tracking slot with his leather-clad fingertips. He extracted the chip, and placed it in his pocket, before he roughly shoved the fat man to the ground.

“M-m-m-mer—“ the troll stammered. Kylo said nothing, but tilted his head slightly in consideration. His irritation was rising. His fingers twitched in anticipation. Blood sang in his veins at the thought of killing the trog below him.

“Mer-me-mer-mercy! Mercy!” Plutt cried. Kylo reached for his weapon once more, and the hiss and crackle of the unstable blade was like a balm to his battered soul.  He stopped the blade millimetre’s from Plutt’s neck and watched in fascination as the skin began to redden and burn from the intense heat. Plutt trembled at his feet. The sour stink of urine filled the air. The power that poured through Kylo’s veins felt sweeter than the finest high.

“I do not believe in mercy,” he said cooly. With a clean flick of his wrist, he severed Plutt’s head from his lumbering body. The bloodlust sang in his veins. The stormtroopers around him scooped up the corpse and headed to make the necessary preparations. 

Kylo switched off his spitting blade, and stalked back to his ship. He took out the tracking device, and wiped it on a nearby pilot’s uniformed shoulder. The pilot stayed stock still, though he shook slightly at his touch. Kylo retired to the small room at the back of the ship, and waited for the tell-tale hiss of the doors as they slid shut.

Only when he was completely alone, did he remove his mask. The shredded skin on his shoulder began to throb. The pain receptors were beginning to activate. He did his best to ignore the white hot flare of pain. 

He held the tracking chip up with leather-clad fingers, and scrutinised it for a moment. There was a small dent in the side, undoubtedly from when he forcefully detached it from the fixer’s head. It was the type of tracker that wasn’t designed to be removed. A tiny cluster of frayed wires stuck out from the end of the chip. It was highly likely that it would malfunction in some way.

With this in mind, Kylo closed his eyes, and slid the chip into the slot behind his ear.

Nothing happened.

He felt his frustration grow, unwilling to accept that he'd gone this far for nothing. As his hand raised to eject the chip, he felt a gentle tug between his ribs.

He paused.

It was as though there was a tether that formed and wrapped around his torso that pulled at him _just so_. He felt compelled towards her. _Rey_. With a thought, he cautiously explored the link, searching for its end within her.

With a frown, Kylo realized he couldn’t pinpoint her exact location, likely because of the damage the chip had taken, though he could still feel her general direction. He would need to fix the tracker if he wanted to be able to find her. Out in Jakku this vague direction may have been helpful, but in Coruscant, where he assumed she was headed, it would be useless.

With that in mind, he removed his right glove, and tossed it on the seat beside him. He twisted the top knuckle of his index finger, revealing the lighter beneath, Normally, he used it during interrogation, but in moments like these, it was delightfully multifunctional. 

He adjusted the flame height and temperature. The work required his complete focus, given how small the wires were compared to his thick fingers. He blinked in quick succession to activate his optical scanner. He zoomed in close until he felt comfortable enough to begin, then carefully soldered the wires to the motherboard of the chip. It had been a while since he'd repaired hardware, but he could never forget the basics.

He lowered the temperature of the flame and warmed the side of the chip that had been dented. With the pad of his other fingers he smoothed it out as best he could. Afterwards, he pressed a button at the base of the lighter, and a small, thin blade emerged from the base of his finger. He used the tip of the blade to maneuver the wires back to their correct position. It was as repaired as it ever would be. When it was cool enough, he inspected it one last time, then slid the chip back in.

The same tugging sensation emerged between his ribs, but it was sharper, in a way. The tether that bound them seemed to thicken. He prodded it in his mind, testing its strength. Again, he searched for her through the link. The connection was clearer now, and he could feel that she was indeed traveling towards the city. The link seemed to grow more taught the further she travelled, and the tug in his chest throbbed with a dull ache. With a curse, he realized he still couldn't pinpoint her exact location. He nearly growled.

But it was stronger now than it was before. All he needed was time to track the pretty desert girl down. And Kylo was very good at hunting people. 

Kylo had a choice. He could pursue her now, and catch the terrorists off guard, or he could wait until she lead him to the resistance’s newest hideout. The tactician in him told him to wait it out, even as his body twitched, eager for another fight. The lust for confrontation and blood was demanding.

As well as the lust for more earthly pleasures. Particularly with the beautiful desert girl.

 _No._ He needed to focus. 

He commanded the pilots to fly back to headquarters. Kylo’s decision was made. He would check in with Snoke, then wait until the most opportune time to strike. He was so close to fumigating the resistance once and for all, that he could practically taste the metallic tang of their blood on his lips. 

Finally, he would have his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder why Kylo would think of his mother when killing Hutt. Or why he knows how to fix things. The past is such a fickle thing, huh.  
> Lol, but for real, kudos and comments are always appreciated!  
> This one was pretty plot heavy, but I figured it'd be more interesting to "see" how the Yakuza and Resistance deal went down, as opposed to someone telling Kylo or Rey about it. Plus I'm fundamentally incapable of restraining myself when it comes to world building, and all that jazz.  
> We'll get more into the inner machinations of Kylo's mind later on as well.  
> Let me know what you guys think!  
> Until next time, Cheers!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.

The first thing Rey noticed upon exiting the hovertransport, was the scent. There was a sweetness to the air that she’d only smelled a handful of times in her life out in the arid wastelands of Jakku. It was the sharp, fresh aroma of approaching rain. She could practically taste the impending roll of thunder and lightning against her tongue, and her eyes instinctually darted skyward. Her jaw dropped in a small gasp, as her eyes widened to take in the technicolor world around her.

The buildings seemed to stretch upwards for miles, with their tops obscured by the thick clouds that rolled in. A kaleidoscope of neon drenched the night air in flashing colors. Rey didn’t even know where to look. There were advertisements that stretched across vast swaths of structures. Some of the buildings were angled, some were curved. Some were brightly coloured, while the rest were grey, concrete monoliths. Hundreds of feet in the air, dozens of bridges connected one structure to the next. All kinds of vehicles were zooming past, whether they be on wheels or hovering. Their drivers were in a silent battle of wills against the pedestrians that criss-crossed without a care through the labyrinthine streets.

  
Rey had never seen so many people in one area before. Didn’t think that there would ever be a big enough space to accommodate them all. And yet here she stood, one lone granule in a body of shifty sands. She felt small.

Rey had never been one to consider her clothing before, since she’d scavenged and mended them herself. But as she eyed the luxurious fashions that draped elegant bodies which never knew starvation, she felt strangely drab. Each individual’s clothing told you everything you needed to know about them in a glance.

  
Rey knew she didn’t like what hers said about her.

  
_Desert rat. Scavenger. Pinkskin. Rube. Bennie._

  
Just down the street, there was a woman with completely chrome skin that leaned against a wall, her angled, short techhair glowing vibrant green. The pink metallic slip she wore left very little to the imagination. She was speaking with a man who’d completely transformed into an anthropomorphic wolf, complete with pointed ears, claws, fur, and a tail. He caught Rey staring, and flashed his sharp, jagged teeth at her. She instinctually bared her own, paired with a fierce glare, until he averted his gaze.

  
The rumble of engines, the echo of various storefront’s music bleeding out into the streets, and the conversations of thousands of voices were nearly deafening in her ears. With the exception of the regular shootout, Jakku seemed silent compared to this. She heard the rumble of a maglev train before she saw it glide smoothly along the rails above the street. It weaved and coiled through the buildings like a snake.

While she took in the sights and sounds and smells that assaulted her senses, she followed closely behind Finn and Poe as they began to navigate through the densely crowded streets. The rest of the Resistance members that accompanied them there had already scattered across the city.

  
Rey’s instincts warned her to keep her guard up, and to remain vigilant. Even as her eyes soaked in the concrete jungle around her, her mind raced. Plutt must’ve heard about the explosion by now, and it was only a matter of time before he came to the city to track her down. As she squeezed between a palm tree, and a street vendor, she thought again about her parents. How would they be able to find her, now that she was just another body within a sea of millions?

  
“What do you think of Coruscant?” Finn asked, a small smile tugging on his lips. She blinked out of her anxious reverie, and smiled back at him.

  
“I didn’t know there was anything like this in the whole world,” she answered honestly, with a touch of reverence in her voice. The city was truly incredible.

  
“I know what you mean,” Finn nodded, “you’re taking it better than I did. The first time I ever came here I got so overwhelmed I had a panic attack.” His small laugh was warm.

  
Rey looked at the man, considering his honesty. He was very forthcoming to her, which she didn’t understand. And he had been nothing but kind to her, if a tad touchy. She wondered what he wanted from her.

“How long ago was that?” She inquired.

“A couple of months ago,”

“What brought you to the city?”

Finn hesitated before he answered her, and she could see his thoughts race.

“I was a stormtrooper for the First Order. I was on my first assignment, out in Pacifica. When they briefed us, we were told a group of scavengers were kidnapping people and harvesting their implants. Which I thought, okay, that’s fucked, let’s go take these bastards out, ya know? But when I got there, it turned out that they were just a bunch of starving kids living on the streets. They ordered me to take ‘em out, but I choked. Yeah, they were doing some pretty fucked up shit, but I mean, they were kids, ya know? Fucking _kids_. They didn’t deserve to die. Locked up sure, but they didn’t deserve to _die_.”

Finn paused.

“But as a stormtrooper, you don’t disobey orders. I had no other choice. When a fight broke out between my squad and the kids, I booked it out of there. I managed to escape and caught the subway into the city. After a couple of days of living on the streets, Poe found me. He brought me into the fold, and protected me. I owe him a lot.”

Finn looked wistfully towards the pilot who lead the way through the streets. Poe was talking quickly on his comm. Rey rubbed her thumbs against the sides of her fingers as she considered how to respond.

“I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you to do that. To be forced to choose between what you’re supposed to do versus what you think is right,” she said honestly, “What ended up happening to the kids?”

She was almost afraid of the answer. Rey understood them, in a way, despite their horrendous actions. They were scavengers of a different sort, but all human anguish was the same. Rey knew what it was to be desperate and starving. Anyone would do anything to satiate the consuming need for resources. She’d never kidnapped people, or harvested any implants for that matter, but she had stolen plenty, and had fought people nearly to the death over scraps.

_Bruised knuckles, with blood running down hands like tears. Malnourished, flailing limbs, fingers sharpened to claws, and teeth bared in fury. A twin beating of fear and need to survive thrummed through her veins. Her breathing was a harsh staccato, and sweat dripped from her temples. She straddled the mangled body, triumphant. She tipped back her head and roared her hollow victory into the night sky._

Rey knew with absolute certainty that when it came to survival, there was nothing a desperate human wouldn’t do. Out in Jakku, when each day was a fight between life and death, most didn’t have the luxury of morality.

She glanced down at her hands now, to remind herself it was just a memory. Her knuckles had healed with thin white scars, and the blood had long since washed away. Rey could never unsee it. She stuffed her hands into her pockets.

Finn shrugged. Rey assumed that the kids were dead. She did not grieve for their loss, nor did she celebrate their death. Human mortality was something she’d come to terms with years ago. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Dameron was still talking on his comm.

  
“Is that why you’re with the Resistance now? To pay him back?” Rey asked, gesturing to the pilot’s back. Finn’s head jerked back in a combination of surprise and offense.

  
“No! I mean, when Poe first took me in, obviously I felt obligated to help him out in anyway I could. But the more I learned about the Resistance, the more I began to understand what they were fighting for. They weren't bloodthirsty monsters like I was led to believe, but were good men and woman who believed in equality, no matter the cost,” Finn said, his eyes simmering with his conviction, “This was my first big job for them. I really wanted to prove myself,” he looked down at his feet, and kicked at some garbage that littered the ground, “I guess I kinda fucked that opportunity up pretty bad, huh?”

“I don’t know about that. You guys fucked over the Yakuza, managed to keep all your limbs, and even helped a civilian in the process. I wouldn’t consider that fucking up,” Rey said, her lips tugging upwards in a soft smile.  
Finn smiled back, and nodded his head slightly in gratitude. Poe shut off his comm with a curse, and turned around to face them.

“Change of plans. The General wants to see us now,” He said, licking the backs of his teeth in agitation. Rey couldn’t stop the swell of anxiety. She assumed that included her. Finn swallowed audibly beside her.

“Alright. Lead the way,” Finn said, straightening his back. Ever the trooper, soldiering forward. Poe glanced between the two of them before nodding slightly. With a deep, beleaguered sigh, he turned around and lead them down a narrow alleyway.

“I’d love to give you the grand tour, Rey, but you’ll just have to settle for the behind-the-scenes treatment,” Poe winked. She chuckled lightly at his attempt at levity, but the ball of dread that settled in her stomach wasn’t budging.

There were two men standing further down the alley. No, not just men, but _security_ , Rey realised. They stood sentry beside the one door in the alleyway, weighty SMG’s in their gloved hands. The three of them walked up to the guards. They sized up Rey as she approached, and the weight of their scrutiny made her square her shoulders, and draw herself up to her full height. She refused to be intimidated by them.

The security guards nodded to Poe and Finn, and the one on the right lifted their heavy, mechanical hand, and knocked on the door twice. The door slid open, revealing a dark hallway inside. Thin strips of LED lights flickered near the ceiling, and the three of them were forced to walk single-file through the narrow corridor. The path that Poe lead them down was long and winding, but Rey still tried to commit it to memory. Just in case.

“Anything I should know beforehand?” Rey asked, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the three of them.

“If the General asks you anything, answer honestly, otherwise she’ll figure you out in seconds. Don’t speak to her unless she speaks to you. Don’t touch her. And try not to stare,” Poe listed off.

“At what?” Rey asked. They stopped at one of the many doors that lined the right side of the corridor. Poe looked at her and smirked.

“At any of it,” he winked. With that cryptic response, he opened the door and ushered them inside.

It felt as though the air was stolen from her lungs, as her eyes widened to take in the sights around her. To say that the lobby was cavernous was a severe understatement. It was easily the largest room Rey had ever been inside of in her life, and her awed gaze kept glancing skyward to remind herself that she wasn’t outside. Everything was bathed in hot pink neon, lending an ethereal sort of quality to the space. Polished marble gleamed in a mirror finish beneath her feet. High energy music was blaring loudly from somewhere, nearly drowning out the shouts of drunks and dancers. A massive circular bar was situated in the direct centre of the room, around which a spiral staircase coiled upwards.

The bar had a second level above, but this one was a deep cobalt blue. She could just barely make out the sensuous dancers that projected in holograms around the circumference of the blue bar. Her gaze continued to wander, unsure of where to settle next. A long counter to her left was cluttered with as many drinks as there were bodies. The ceiling itself was a work of art, with its large, rounded facade lit from beneath as though it were a supernova exploding just for them to see.

It was a sensory onslaught. A feast. Rey didn’t realize how much she starved for an experience like this until now.

“Rey, you coming?” Finn asked. At the sound of his voice, she whipped around and felt a slight flush burn her cheeks. She must’ve looked like such a bennie gawking at the marvel around her. No one else looked to be nearly as impressed as she felt.

“What is this place?” She asked, finally giving a voice to her curiosity.

“What isn’t it?” Finn smiled, “Casino, bar, hotel, gym, spa, arcade, restaurant, mall, nightclub. It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Rey didn’t know why anyone would ever want to leave. The air pulsed with a tangible energy. It reverberated deep into her bones.

She felt electric.

She followed closely behind the two men as they lead a path through the lobby bar. Seeing the size of the lobby had put certain things into perspective for Rey. The first being that the Resistance probably used the casino as a front, and as a way to fund their operations. It was a smart business move, and considering the size of the crowds, was very profitable.

The next thing she considered, was that even though Plutt could track down her location, she assumed he would still have trouble finding her. When Rey had been young and foolish enough to try running away, she’d been found within hours after she’d rested her head to get some sleep. There were no hotels in Jakku. She’d tried to hide by the whorehouse, the most populated place in the zone, but there weren’t enough people to make the hunt difficult. She pointedly did not think about the punishment she received after she was caught.

They crossed the hall, and went inside one of the lifts on the righthand side. The ride was long and tense, and Rey’s hands stayed clenched into tight fists by her sides. She could feel Poe’s breath on her shoulder, and it made her skin crawl. She wasn’t too fond of small spaces filled with strangers, no matter how well-intended they may be.

When they emerged, the absence of the pounding bass and high-pitched synth made her swallow. It was almost too quiet up on the two-hundred-and-fiftieth floor. There were three doors, but the one in the middle was flanked by two security guards. They wore all black suits, and their eyes flashed blue from their comms. After a beat, the one on the left knocked on the door. It slid seamlessly into the wall, and Poe lead the way through.

Rey didn’t know what she was expecting of the General, but the tiny, grey-haired woman with warm, if wary, eyes certainly wasn’t it. Her entire history was written into the lines of her face. This was a woman who didn’t take shit, and who carried herself with a confidence bred from experience. Rey didn’t know if seeing the General in the flesh made her more or less anxious. She sat across the table alongside the two men, and stayed quiet. The General’s eyes turned to flint.

“Heard you three had quite a night,” she began, her voice firm and direct, “care to fill me in on what happened?”

Poe beside her spoke for the three of them. He always talked first, it seemed.

“Hutt changed his mind. He didn’t take the deal,” he said. The General eyed him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. When the pilot stayed quiet, the woman glared at him.

“If you don’t start telling me what the _fuck_ happened in the next five seconds, I will blow a fucking hole in your skull, Poe,” she threatened. Rey swallowed. She didn’t doubt the General’s seriousness for a second. Clearly, neither did Dameron.

He regaled the story of what happened between he, Finn, and the Yakuza, and how that had lead them to Rey. When her part of the story came up, the weight of the General’s scrutiny made her squirm in her seat.

“That was very brave of you to help. I can’t thank you enough for not letting these two idiots die,” the General said, a soft, teasing smile pulling at her lips. Rey felt herself preen at the praise. She answered the General’s grin with a small one of her own.

“I’m more than happy to help,” she said.

“Well since you’re so eager, we could use another pair of hands around here,” The General said, “any chance you’d be interested?”

Rey felt her heart pound against her ribcage. This was it. She’d fantasied about this moment since she was a small child. She was here, in the Resistance headquarters, and not only did the leader just compliment her, but she was offering her a job.

 _Her_. A _job_.

Rey could hardly contain her excitement. The grin on her face stretched her cheeks to the point of pain, but she didn’t care.

“You’re offering me a _job_ ,” she said in disbelief.

“I’m going to be frank,” the General continued, “it won’t pay much. But regardless of what you say, I’ll still compensate you for what you’ve done for us today.”

Rey almost didn’t even know what to say. Almost.

“Of course! I would love to! I mean, I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity," she said breathlessly.

The General smiled, her eyes dark eyes warming considerably.

“Wonderful. In that case, you can join these two on a run tomorrow,” she said.

“You’re giving us another job?” Finn asked, eyes wide. The General’s eyes flickered towards him. There was a curious mixture of affection and vexation that crossed her aged features, when she considered the two men.

“Consider this your second chance. Try not to fuck it up,” she said, “besides, something tells me that Rey here might be able to keep you witless wonders in line.”

Despite the acerbic words, the two men didn’t seem insulted or offended at all. The antagonism was almost playful, in a maternal kind of way. Rey realized then that the bond that the three of them shared was very deep. She wondered what they must have done to earn this woman’s high regard and affection. Rey wondered if she may be able to earn it for herself one day. She could only hope. Despite her blunt and aggressive demeanor, Rey felt herself taking to the General immensely.

“Thank you, General. I look forward to proving myself to you,” Rey said.

“You don’t need to impress me, kid. Just helping out the cause in any way is enough for me,” she said.

“Yes, General,” Rey nodded.

“Please, Rey, call me Leia,” the aged woman smiled. Rey nodded again, and rose from her seat alongside the others.

“It’s a simple transport job tomorrow, but it’s early. You’ll be heading out around five. Connix will send you the route. Han’ll be waiting for you when you get there. Finn, show the girl to a room, would you?” Leia said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Finn said, giving the woman a mock salute.

With that, the three of them were on the move again. Poe mumbled something about needing a stiff drink, and offered to buy a round. After the day they’d had, Rey longed for a drink, but the aches in her limbs, and her niggling paranoia made her refuse. She was still covered in old sweat, dirt, and sand, and all she wanted was a bath and a bed. Finn said he’d meet up with Poe after showing her to her room.

The pair walked in relative silence. The more Rey thought about resting, the more aware of her exhaustion she became. Her limbs throbbed with dull pain, and felt heavy. Her hair felt grimy and matted. As she was walking, she realized that she hadn’t brought anything for herself. No clothes, brushes, sanitary products, nothing. For a brief moment, she felt like a kid on the run again, with only a name and the clothes on her back.

“What’d you think of the General?” Finn asked, bringing her racing thoughts back to the present.

“She’s a bit scary, but in a good way, if that makes sense,” she said. Finn laughed.

“I know what you mean. I thought she was terrifying at first. She just has this way about her, you know?” He said.

“She let you guys off really easily though. I’m kinda surprised she didn’t punish you, to be honest,” Rey said. Plutt would’ve had her head on a pike if she were to ever fuck up a deal even half as badly as they did. The fact that the General had only mildly scolded the pair perplexed her. She wondered what kind of discipline they’d receive later. Maybe she hadn’t said anything because Rey was there, and Leia didn’t want to scare off a new recruit.

“Leia’s not exactly the punishment type. She’s the queen of the whole ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ thing,” Finn said, “but sometimes that’s worse, because disappointing her feels like such a personal failure.”

“I can understand why,” Rey nodded beside him. The General had this sort of maternal charisma about her. Rey wondered if her own mother was the same.

“Here we are,” Finn said, stopping at one of the many identical doors that lined the hall. He gave her a generic keycard, and followed the lock’s prompts to scan her fingerprint. It was mildly comforting to know that the room used a bio scanner.

“Hmm that’s weird,” Finn said, when Rey pushed the door open.

“What’s weird?” She asked.

“Nothing,” Finn shook his head, “it’s just that your info didn’t come up on the door. It’s supposed to.”

Rey didn’t really know what to make of that.

“How would a hotel lock know my information?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

Finn looked at her with confusion in his warm eyes.

“All hotels use the city’s system to link prints to personal information. It’s a standard safety feature. I’ve never seen it not work before,” he said.

“What system does it use?” She asked, a sliver of her earlier paranoia creeping down the back of her neck. Finn continued to look at her strangely, as though he were struggling to parse out a tough equation that he couldn’t make any sense of.

“The city keeps a record of everyone’s prints and basic info for certain companies or groups to use. It’s to keep track of everyone and helps keep down crime. Well, it’s supposed to anyway,” he said.

“Do you have to sign up for it or something?” She asked.

“No, it’s mandatory practice at birth. It’s state law. Where’re you born?” He asked.

Rey glanced down at her feet. Her thumbs ran back and forth along the sides of her fingers.

“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice small. Finn’s features softened as he looked at her.

“I don’t know where I’m from either, if it’s any consolation,” he said. Rey glanced up at the impossibly kind man beside her, and saw the pain in his eyes. He was like her, in a way. The realization made her feel a strange sense of almost kindred belonging. She wondered if this is what it felt like to have a friend.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in,” he said, ushering her through the door.

When she walked into the room, the first thing Rey noticed was that there was only one bed. The room was spacious enough to sleep at least ten people, and the lack of accommodations puzzled her. She supposed she could sleep on the floor; the carpet beneath her feet was nearly as plush as her mattress back at home anyway. She’d slept on far worse.

“I’ll let you settle in. I’ll be across the hall, if you need anything. Remember we head out at five tomorrow, so be ready to go by then,” Finn said, lingering by the door. Rey turned to him.

“You’re not sleeping in here?” She asked. Finn’s eyes widened, and he coughed abruptly.

“No, that would be… No. Nope. Again, I’ll be right there if something…if you need me,” Finn stuttered, gesturing to the door behind him.

“Where will Poe be sleeping?” She asked, her confusion growing more. Finn’s gaze flickered down the hall before meeting hers. He was scrutinizing her, she realised, trying to parse out whether or not she was making a joke.

“In his room? I assume at least,” Finn said after a beat.

“Oh,” she gasped. She looked around the room again, her gaze sweeping over the large space with newfound appreciation. This was _hers_. All hers. She almost felt guilty, even as her heart stuttered at the idea of being able to indulge in such luxury. As soon as her brain processed that the space was hers and hers alone, she felt herself becoming very territorial over it. She turned towards Finn again.

“Thank you for everything. Well, have a goodnight then, I guess,” she smiled. Finn smiled back, despite the abrupt change in her behaviour, and gave her a small salute. He wished her a goodnight, and Rey closed the door behind him. Her fingers lingered on the metal for a few moments, and she breathed deep. Safe. This room felt safe in a way Rey almost didn’t comprehend. It was a tiny bubble in a macrocosm of danger and sleaze, and she indulged in her delusion that nothing could hurt her in here.

She turned around again, and walked forward into the room. The walls and floors were a matching grey, but colourful accents kept the space from feeling dull. To her left were three square cabinets stacked atop one another. Rey opened them, just because she could, and discovered a small black safe in the bottom. She didn’t touch it, and promptly closed the door. Across from that was the bathroom, which had white square tiles on the floors and walls, white counters, and white amenities. A mix of neon pink and white lighting made the small space feel anything but bland. A small cactus was sitting in the corner of the counter, and Rey’s eyes softened. The small plant felt like a tiny touch of home in such an unfamiliar place.

She picked it up and turned around to walk back into the main room once more. The double bed was set inside of the wall before a large window with diagonally slashed corners. There was a small couch and coffee table before a quaint kitchenette. There was a mini fridge, a microwave, and a massive threevee hanging above the sink. The LED panels that ran across the walls and ceiling had a blue tinge that she found very calming.

The hotel room was bigger than her entire home. Rey placed the cactus on the wide ledge of the bed frame, just beside the pillow. She began the process of removing her soiled clothes, unwilling to dirty the pristine bed. When she stood in nothing but her skin, she hesitated for a moment. With a small grin, she leaped onto the plush surface. She giggled breathlessly at the soft bounce of the mattress, and stretched her limbs across the sheets. Even when splayed out like a star, her entire body fit on the bed. Rey felt like a queen.

After a moment of just lying there and relishing being able to do absolutely nothing, she got up and walked back into the bathroom. The shower used water. Actual water. The warm feeling of it raining down atop her head made her grin like a lunatic. It soothed the aches and pains that were battered deep into her sinew and bone. Bruises marred her body, and several cuts she hadn’t noticed until then sliced across her tanned skin. She sat in the small stall, drawing her knees into her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. She closed her eyes, and reveled in the feel of the water pulsing down atop her hair and back. Rey stayed in the water long after the last of the grime on her body swirled down the drain. The haze of relaxation softened her body like warm butter. The caress of the steam felt like a warm embrace. When she emerged from the shower over an hour later, with her fingertips and toes pruned, she felt like a new woman.

* * *

It had been hours since she’d been left alone in her new room. Rey had never felt such a soft bed before, didn’t know that the world had found a way to manufacture what it felt like to sleep atop a cloud. Still, even as her limbs grew weary, her mind was restless. She was used to living alone. Rey was used to sleeping with one eye open and a blaster under her pillow. She’d fought off thieves more than once before. She considered herself very territorial for it.

But even as exhaustion clawed at her eyes, she stared out the large window with a sense of foreboding in her chest. Things had gone too well earlier. She didn’t really know what to make of the Resistance yet. She was slightly scared by how much she had taken to the people here, and how quickly. She’d not known anyone for even a day, and yet she longed to be friends with people who were little more than strangers. She felt a maternal affection for a woman she’d known for less than half an hour. Was she getting too caught up in everything already?

She scolded herself for not worrying about Plutt more. He absolutely had heard about the explosion by now, and thus would know that she’s missing. She didn’t know how he tracked her down the first time, but the knowledge that he could made her paranoid. She told herself earlier not to worry, considering the density of life in the city, but perhaps she was letting her guard down too much. She really didn’t know the extent of what Plutt could do. She didn’t know how much he would punish her for running away. She doubted that she would survive his sadism in tact.

Her stomach growled, weakly reminding her that she hadn’t eaten at all today. Her body ached from pushing it to its limits without fuel. She glanced towards the kitchenette, and slowly slid off of the bed. She rifled through the cupboards, muttering a quiet cry of victory when she opened a cabinet lined with an assortment of snacks. She grabbed a bag of chips, a couple of nutribars, and a can of nicola.

While she ate, her thoughts remained fixated on her paranoia over Plutt, and her conflicting feelings over the Resistance. Everyone was being too friendly to her, too nice. She didn’t trust them. But it was very hard not to. She’d dreamed of becoming a member for as long as she could remember, but now that she was here, she found herself lost. She never wanted to go back to Jakku, but where could she go? She couldn’t afford to live in Coruscant. Plutt had taken every cent she’d ever earned for himself. Since she was a slave, she’d never been able to own property of her own, only manage it. Her life had never been hers before. While she’d dreamed of freedom for so long, actual freedom was almost paralyzing in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

She glanced at the clock beside her, and sighed. It was quarter to three. She would be running on fumes the next day again.

When her food was finished, she walked up to the stack of cabinets again, and opened the one on the bottom. The black safe was there, just as it was before. Rey sat down on the floor before it, and flexed her fingers. If she couldn’t sleep, then she would work. It was the only thing that could keep her sane right now.

She’d picked locks since she was five. Cracking the safe was child’s play. Given the security of the room, the lock was surprisingly rudimentary. Within five minutes, the click of the release broke through the silence in the room. Rey smirked slightly, and moved to open it.

The smirk promptly dropped from her face. Her eyes widened. Blood drained from her face. 

In the middle of the safe, lying innocently atop several stacks of credits, was the silver, gleaming handle of a laser sword. 

Rey immediately slammed the safe door shut. Her heart raced. Why would a weapon like that be in this safe? Did Finn know? Did Leia? Combined with the sheer number of credits, she doubted it. Weren't hotel rooms supposed to be cleaned before allowing new guests? She assumed so, but since she'd never stayed in one before, she wasn't sure. Was this room meant for someone else then? Would they be coming back? If so, when? Would they accuse her of trying to steal from them if they did? She didn't have anything to show that she was staying there, no suitcase or bag to speak of. It was unlikely someone would believe her. She wouldn't even believe her. Maybe that's why the lock on the door hadn't been working properly? Because it was already programmed for someone else. 

More and more questions plagued her mind. She opened the safe again, and stared hard at its contents. The scavenger inside of her told her to take the credits at least. But maybe the money was stolen, and people were looking for it. Maybe that was why a weapon like that was lying over top of it, to send a warning to people like her not to touch it. 

Then again, if someone owned this kind of a weapon, why wouldn't they keep it on them at all times? That's what Rey would do. Laser swords weren't exactly a common commodity. They were the priciest handheld weapons both on and off of the black market, with the simplest models being worth tens of millions of credits. There was only one manufacturer who owned the patent to them, but they'd stopped selling them decades ago. To find one in a safe in a city like this was like striking gold in a sand dune. It just didn't happen, and least of all to people like Rey. 

She closed the safe door again. Her hands were shaking. Her breath was quick. That niggling paranoia was back in full force. She stood abruptly, and quickly threw on her clothes. She ignored the smell, and the layers of filth that coated the soiled fabric as it scratched against her skin. She grabbed her blaster that she'd placed beneath her pillow, and sat on the floor with her back against the bed. She aimed the blaster towards the door, and waited.

And waited.

And waited. 

Until sleep overtook her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, folks. I hope everyone had a good holiday season! Hopefully this will begin to make it up to you. I have another chapter on the way, and ideally it should be up by the end of the week. Thanks for all of the support for this story so far! It means a lot to me. Kudos and comments really are very appreciated. The next chapter will be when things start to heat up a little bit more!
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr @ reveusedeminuit!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quickly, I just wanted to mention that from here on out, I want to depict Rey's anxiety honestly, and I'm plucking from my own experience with it to do so. Hopefully I don't step on anyones toes in the process. In my fic, I want the years of abuse and abandonment to have an effect on her in a realistic way, or as realistic of a way as I can write it. The same will go for Kylo, when it comes to depression and ptsd (which again, I will be basing off of my own experience with). I'm not a psychologist, so this will not be a certified, and absolutely accurate portrayal of the disorders, nor is it intended to be. This will not be a dark! fic, but it's not fluffy either. If this makes anyone uncomfortable, or if anyone finds this triggering, then I'm truly sorry because that's not my intention. If certain portrayals of mental health are triggering to you, then you should tread lightly. I put it in the tags for a reason.  
> I don't anticipate that anyone will get upset, but just in case, I wanted to say something.  
> Disclaimer aside, I hope I didn't freak you guys out too much, lol. I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

_Ash fell from the sky like snowflakes. Darkness descended upon the world, lit only by the pyres piled high with corpses. Rey’s body trembled, and her limbs seized. She felt frozen in place, even as her mind screamed at her to run, to get away. The terrors, the knights who set fire to the world, swarmed around her. Their faces were uncovered, but indiscernible. There was a shroud of black mist where their faces should be._  
Rey felt panic swell in her blood. Soot coated her skin. Her blood raced. The taste of ash and blood clung to her tongue. She forced herself to swallow past the lump of fear that balled in her throat.

_She needed to get free.  
_

_She needed to get out of here.  
_

_She needed to move.  
_

_She needed to run.  
_

_Her limbs refused to obey. The group of knights descended upon her. Surrounded her. Trapped her. Tears pricked her eyes. She did not know how she got here, but she knew with absolute certainty that she would die here._  
A large man swathed in darkness seemed to emerge from the shadows themselves. He stood directly across from her, a dark mask obscuring his features. He was a formidable figure, silhouetted by the flames which rose into the air behind him like upside-down raindrops. Death itself had come to collect her.

_Rey’s panic grew tenfold. She thrashed her limbs against the invisible bonds which restrained her. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, carving paths through the layers of soot and grime. She refused to die here. She refused to give in.  
_

_The man walked closer to her, his gait slow and sure. The ring of knights fell back a step. Death stopped before her, close enough to smell his musk and sweat over the pungent scent of fire, blood, and charred meat.  
_

_“Let me go, you monster!” She roared, her voice hoarse from the thick plumes of smoke that darkened the sky. His gloved hand reached towards her. The backs of his fingers brushed feather-light against her cheek._

_She did not shy away from his touch. She froze, and her whiskey gaze scrutinized the dark, metallic mask he wore. With the touch of his hand against her cheek, her panic slowly evanesced like the embers into the sky. Death was kind, to grant her this peace before he killed her._

_“You’re mine,” the man said, the softness in his deep voice like a caress, “and now that I have you,” His gloved hand travelled downwards to encircle her throat, the pressure light, but unrelenting, “I will never let you go.”  
_

_The grip should have terrified her. His words should have made her blood boil. The idea of belonging to a monster, to a creature carved from darkness itself, should have made her triple her efforts to escape.  
_

_But they didn’t.  
_

_“You think I am yours?” She asked, darkly amused. A glint of a challenge flashed in her almond eyes._

_“I know you are,” he said. The confidence in his voice made her shiver.  
_

_“You think you can keep me?” She asked. She raised her hand to brush the silver of the mask’s jaw. She didn’t notice, as the ring of knights slowly dissipated into smoke, leaving them alone on their battlefield.  
_

_“I know I can,” he said. His hand slowly trailed down from the exposed skin of her neck, to the swell of her breast, before gripping firmly onto her hip. Goosebumps prickled her skin, as her nerves chased after the sensation. Electricity sparked in her fingertips. She leaned in closer, her gaze locked on where his lips would be. The glint of a challenge darkened her features, and the smallest smirk tugged upwards at her lips. Her eyes flickered back to the harsh slashes of metal that covered where his eyes should be.  
_

_“Then catch me,” she whispered breathlessly.  
_

_Rey pulled out of his embrace, pivoted on her heel, and ran. She did not fear him, this monster made from ashes and darkness, not anymore.  
_

_He whispered a single word into the wind around her.  
_

_“Always.”  
_

_Fire would rage. Ash would continue to fall. Destruction would be wrought.  
_

_And they would reign.  
_

_Together._

Rey jolted awake with a gasp. She heaved, gulping down air with desperation. Her eyes were unseeing as she took in the hotel room around her. The remnants of the dream refused to fade completely. A thin layer of sweat glistened on her skin. She closed her eyes, and tilted her head back against the edge of the bed, attempting in vain to slow the wild beating of her heart. She’d always had vivid dreams, which she blamed on her overactive imagination. But even as the specifics began to fade from her memory, the image of a man emerging from darkness was seared into her brain. He felt like a nightmare. A sense of wrongness settled deep into her gut, and she felt dirty.

She was desperate for a shower. She needed to feel the water pelt down on her body, and the steam to clear her mind. She stood up, her back and neck throbbing with stiffness. Her legs ached from yesterday’s exertion. She was likely going to be sore all day. She collected her gun from where it had fallen on the ground, and carried it into the bathroom with her. She longed for a cigarette.  
She stared at the tile walls in the tiny shower unblinking. The scalding heat seared her skin, and stained it pink. Rey didn’t feel it. She idly watched as stray droplets slowly descended the wall, slithering between the grout. She felt numb.

She didn’t know what to make of her nightmare. She wasn’t the type of person who believed that dreams had any kind of meaning or significance. Nonetheless, it had rattled her in a way she wasn’t expecting. It just felt so real. The blazing battlefield, the ash, and the touch from that man. Rey shivered beneath the spray. Fatigue scratched at her eyes. She really needed that cigarette.  
After drying herself off and putting on her soiled clothes once more, she sat on the couch across from the kitchenette, and stared hard at the innocuous black safe. Rey could pretend the dream had never happened, but this was a problem that she couldn’t ignore. She still didn’t know what to make of it.

Her fingers itched to take both the credits and the weapon. The scavenger in her just wanted to know how many thousands of credits were sitting untouched that she could put to good use. At the very least, she could buy food, clothes, and some basic hygienic products. Her morning breath was rank, even to her, but she didn’t have anything to take care of it.

If there were enough credits, she may even be able to get a small place for herself. Finally, she could carve out her own tiny place in the world. She could have a home that wasn’t a prison.  
She also was insatiably curious about the laser sword. Perhaps she could tear it apart, piece by piece, to understand how it worked. Maybe she would even be able to replicate it.

Rey didn’t realize that she had risen from the couch, until she was standing before the safe.

The only thing holding her back from taking the money and the weapon, was the very real probability that someone was looking for them. The laser sword may not even work for her, as it probably had a SmartLinked handle that responded only to its owner.

But she could always try.

No, she shouldn’t. The laser sword was far too dangerous. She may end up accidentally stabbing herself just trying to turn it on.

But she had worked on weapons for over a decade. Knew the ins-and-outs of most lethal machinery like other kids knew rock stars and movie gods.

But if she did take them, and their owner did come back, then that would paint a target on her back, and she was pretty sure she already had a couple courtesy of the Yakuza and Plutt. She didn’t much like the idea of adding another to the list.

But the weapon could help her fight them.

But a laser sword could only do so much damage up against men with grenades, blasters, and SMGs.

Her indecision tore at her. She chewed absently on the inside of her cheek as she struggled to make a choice. Her thumb idly stroked her fingers.

A knock on the door broke her concentration. She flinched. Almost absently, she reached out and slipped a few bills free from their stacks. She didn’t count how much she had taken, and she didn’t feel guilty. She just stuffed the credits into the pocket of her vest. Rey hastily closed the safe door, and glanced at the clock.

It was ten to five. She’d only managed just over an hour of sleep. She knew she would be feeling it later.

As she stepped away from the safe, she reasoned that she could figure out what she was going to do about it after she got back. If it was still there, at least. In the meantime, Rey had her blaster and her wits, which should be enough for a simple transport job. She didn’t need a near-priceless, super-weapon to give her an edge.

She opened the door to find Finn, bright-eyed and beaming.

“Morning, soldier,” he greeted. Of course he would be a morning person. Rey tried to push all of her thoughts about weird nightmares and expensive weapons to the side. She would think about everything later.

She plastered her most convincing smile on her face, and greeted him back. She stepped out into the hall behind him, casting one last glance towards the safe behind her. She followed him through the corridors as he excitedly talked about their job. It was clear that he was very dedicated to making sure that the day went smoothly. They walked into the hotel’s restaurant, quickly finding Poe’s unruly mop of hair amidst the early, business crowd. Without the helmet on, Rey noticed that he had fine metal wires embedded atop his skin that accented his temples and cheekbones. The pilot looked about as tired as Rey felt, and clutched the caf in his hands like a lifeline.

“Morning,” he grumbled towards them.

“Have fun last night?” She smirked. Between the bags under his bloodshot eyes, and the way he winced whenever a group of execs a couple of tables over laughed too loudly, the man must’ve been fighting quite the hangover.

“It was fine. You should join us next time,” he said.

“Maybe,” she said. As fun as a night on the town seemed, she didn’t trust herself to lose control like that. At least, not yet. She still didn’t know when Plutt was going to come and drag her back to Jakku. She also didn’t know when the Yakuza were going to retaliate, since she assumed that they would. They weren’t the type to take casualties lying down. There would be retribution. She was sure of it. If she wanted to maintain her tenuous link to freedom, she would need to stay vigilant.

“Do you party?” Poe asked. Rey shrugged. She’d never been to a party before, but that didn’t mean she was against the idea. Jakku wasn’t exactly a wellspring of opportunity. But she didn’t want to let on her inexperience. She wanted them to think that she was knowledgeable, capable, someone they might need to keep around.

“Of course,” she lied. Poe sipped his coffee, staring down hard at the dark surface as though it would provide the answers to all of his questions, if he just looked hard enough. Finn munched on a bagel in neat, small bites.

“My body’s getting too old for this shit,” Poe groaned, “I used to never get hangovers, and now they last two fucking days.”

Rey plucked an apple from one of the baskets of food. She distantly remembered reading once how they were supposed to be a good substitute to brushing teeth. There was no time like the present to test that out.

“Run out of Hang-Up?” Finn asked, his nose scrunched in sympathy.

“Never had any to run out of,” Poe grumbled.

“Sorry man. Today should be short, so you can sleep it off later,” Finn offered.

“I can’t, I have some meetings later that I can’t miss,” Poe said. Rey felt her curiosity pique. She was still at a loss as to what the Resistance did in the day-to-day, since she only ever heard about them when they were making headlines.

All Rey knew was that the Resistance was infamous for its commitment to its anti-establishment and anti-fascist ideology. Rey grew up hearing about the bombing of Death Star Industries’ headquarters, which at the time was the world’s largest militech corp. After the attack, the company folded. It severely wounded Imperial Corp, the parent company, to the point of bankruptcy. It was only in the last couple of years that Imperial Corp was bought out by the First Order, the newest militech corp in town. Word was that their influence was stretching beyond that of Imperial, and was set to outpace some of the world’s biggest companies for most valuable corp. Their market value consistently hovered in the trillions. It was all anyone talked about on the news anymore. That, and that they had just signed a grant with the government to outfit the military completely in their products.

Decades of idolizing the Resistance didn’t compare to actually being a part of it. She would need more information.

“What kinds of meetings? If you don’t mind my asking,” she said.

“You’re fine,” he waved his hand absently towards her, “they’re pretty standard. First one is a weekly update between the captains. In the other, we’re gonna to figure out how to deal with the whole Hutt situation.”

“Captains?” She asked, her brow furrowed. She knew there was a leader in charge, the General, but the idea of a hierarchy beyond that hadn’t crossed her mind before. She didn’t realize that the gang had grown to that size.

“Yeah, there’s five of us in total, not counting Leia. We’re each in charge of shit in each district around the city. I’ve got Haywood, which ain’t too far from here. According to my tax returns though, I’m a flight instructor,” he explained. He took a swig of the coffee, his face pinching into a grimace at the taste.

Rey had no idea that he was such a hotshot within the group. And to think she had waved a gun in his face and insulted him less than a day ago. If she wanted to move deeper into the gang, she would have to remain on the deltajock’s good side.

“You train pilots?” She inquired. She tried to make the question sound casual. Poe nodded his head, before taking another large gulp of the coffee.

“Yup. If you’re interested, I may even be able to take you in inna couple’a weeks or so. Shit’s been so busy lately that I can’t focus on training more than a few people at a time,” he said. He chugged the rest of the coffee, before slamming the cup down onto the table.

“I’d love to. Just let me know,” Rey said. The thought of actually flying made her heart stutter. If she applied her knowledge from the flight-sim, she’s sure she’d be in an actual plane in no time. Poe grunted in what she assumed was an affirmative, before rising from his seat. It was time.

* * *

 

The smuggler that stood before the large steel gates to the warehouse was not what Rey was expecting.

Han Solo.

 _The_ Han Solo.

The smuggler of legend.

The smuggler who allegedly stole twelve million credits from the heart of the Kessel Cartel, one of the deadliest Coruscant had ever seen, with just _one_ partner, and lived to tell the tale.

 _That_ Han Solo.

To say that Rey was awestruck was an understatement.

Apparently, he was affiliated with the Resistance. More than affiliated, actually.

Married into it, in fact.

Rey had no idea.

He was gruff, and _very_ opinionated. They hadn’t been there for more than five minutes, but he was already bitching about their tardiness, the fragility of the crates, and to “r _espect your fucking elders, kid. I can carry a fucking box”_ —even though he _clearly_ couldn’t. At first, he looked her up and down with clear doubt in his eyes, but he didn’t treat her like she was delicate. He bickered with his burly Jamaican partner, Chewie, in Creole. Rey knew bits and pieces of the language, having picked it up from some of Plutt’s gangbangers that occasionally came into her shop. She tried hard to keep from chuckling at their exchanges. For such infamous smugglers, they bickered like an old married couple.

In short, Han Solo was a crotchety old man well past his prime.

Rey adored him.

When Rey had first seen the car they’d be loading up— _the_ fucking _Falcon_ , _the_ getaway car—she’d been unable to restrain her enthusiasm. The silver hovercar was known for its duel-transport, operating both on the road and in the air. It was also one of the fastest street models that Millennium ever manufactured. There were only ever a couple hundred produced, and more than a fair share of them had since been destroyed. To see one, particularly with its legacy, was legendary, regardless of its age and deterioration. To think that they would be driving it was nearly unfathomable. Rey gushed over the specs of the car, animatedly talking at length about its infamous engine and handling.

Han warmed up to her pretty quickly after that.

Later, when she was helping Finn carry one of the heavier crates, she’d overheard he and Chewie debate the benefits of a Mandalorian Silver Gun over a Tek Shotgun, and offhandedly chimed in her thoughts on the matter, mentioning that the silver gun was both stealthy and powerful, while the shotgun was just damaging. Rey could see the subtle glint of respect in the old man’s eyes.

The fact that _The_ Han Solo had looked at Rey with anything remotely resembling respect, made her positively preen. Han Solo, the infamous smuggler, liked _her_ , the desert scavenger from nowhere. She had no idea why, but fuck if she was going to question it.

“Where’d you say you’re from again, kid?” He asked her after the last of the crates was loaded into the _Falcon_. He was leaning against the car, and visibly exhausted from the physical labour, even though he tried to hide it.

“Nowhere,” she said, averting her gaze and biting the inside of her cheek.

“Don’t give me that shit. Where’d you learn so much about mechanics?” He asked, his warm eyes scrutinizing her.

“I’m a techie. I have— _had_ —my own shop out in Jakku,” she answered. He looked at her for a moment, and the sympathy he tried to mask was plain as day across his aged features.

“Tell you what, kid. Since you just joined the gang, you’re going to need a day job, right? How’s about you come work for Chewie and I at our garage out in Watson? We could use some experienced hands,” his small smile was earnest, before it morphed into a smirk, “Plus a cute thing like you can help rack up the prices easy,”

If she thought she was excited yesterday, that was nothing compared to the joy she felt flooding through her at his proposal. Her ear-to-ear grin was cheek splitting.

“Good to know you only want me around to rip people off,” she joked. He shrugged, in a what-can-you-do manner, while his hand casually rested atop of his blaster that hung low on his hip.

“So what’d you say?” He asked.

“Sure, I’d love to work for you!” She nodded. Rey couldn’t believe her fortune. Between being accepted into the Resistance with open arms by the General herself, to being offered a job by one of her childhood heroes, she felt like she was in a dream.

A niggling of doubt also slithered in the back of her mind. Maybe things _were_ too good to be true. Maybe she was allowing herself to get lost again. She was unused to being singled out, at least not positively. People didn’t _choose_ Rey. The idea that someone like Han Solo would want someone like her to work in his shop was a step too close to fiction. She didn’t understand why he had taken to her in the way that he did, or why he wanted to keep her around. To Rey, her knowledge of mechanics and tech were pretty standard. She couldn’t really process it.

Rey left her comm details with the odd couple so they could get in touch, negotiate salaries, and other “ _bureaucratic bullshit_ ”, as Han had so eloquently put it.

She was almost sad to say goodbye.

Rey pulled the old car onto the grid-locked highway, and the soft vibration of the engine beneath her palms put her at ease. It smelled of oil and leather, and the worn seats were soft from age. Finn gave her directions from the passenger seat, while Poe sprawled across the back, arm strewn over his eyes to block out the early morning sunlight. His mouth had dropped open in his slumber, and a tiny droplet of drool pooled onto the leather seat below.

Her mind was reeling. To think that at this time yesterday she was a slave beholden to Plutt, scavenging the junkyards of Jakku, wondering when, if ever, she would get her next meal. The only thing that kept her from luxuriating in the freedom from the fixer, was her parents. She’d been gone for too long already. She needed to let them know where she was, and how to contact her. What if they came back already in the time that she’d been gone? What if they were in Jakku right now, looking for her shop? Would they think that she’d died in the explosion? Would they keep looking for her or would they end their search there?

Rey felt panic rise in her throat, and her stomach seized. Her hands lightly shook, and she gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. She was a traitor, to forget about them for so long. No wonder they had left her in Jakku for all those years. She’d been gone for less than a day, and didn’t even think to score the wall in her room to keep track of the time. She was an awful daughter. She didn’t deserve parents. Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she cursed herself for her weakness. She didn’t want the others to see her failure.

“Rey, are you okay?” Finn’s voice was soft, and filled with concern. Of course he had noticed her distress. She was too easy to read. Always had been. She flashed him a watery, but grateful smile.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I’m fine.”

Finn looked unconvinced, but said nothing. The silence that filled the car was strained. Finn turned on the radio. 

A truck swerved ahead of them, and Rey slammed hard on her brakes, just barely missing the bumper. Poe slid off of his seat, and hit the ground with a thud.

“Fucking asshole,” she spat, glaring at the car.

“Wha?” Poe asked dazedly, and looked around wildly. Finn snickered at his friend, while Poe wiped at his chin and yawned loudly.

The back door to the truck swung open. Six men, all decked out in full tactical gear and helmets, with red arm bands around their left biceps, raised their guns.

Rey panicked. She swerved hard into the next lane, brushing a car which honked its horn loudly at her. The men started firing towards the car. The Resistance fighters ducked down, and Rey blindly accelerated forward, peeking over the dashboard from her crouched position. The sound of the bullets hitting the sides of the car was deafening. Rey didn’t know what to compare it to. Each hit jolted the car, but none of the bullets pierced through the steel. The glass in the windows shattered. Rey yelped. Poe was yelling at her to drive faster. Finn was muttering _“oh god, holy shit,”_ over and over again. 

The heavy traffic limited what she could do. She was going at least thirty miles over the speed limit, weaving through the cars as best as she could. Her hands shook. She struggled to breathe. At least yesterday when she faced down the gangs, she knew something was coming. This had come from nowhere. Were they Yakuza? Were they Plutt’s? Or were they someone else entirely?

Rey didn’t have time to think about it. She swerved hard onto the shoulder of the highway, and managed to cut them off. She floored it towards the closest exit ramp, the truck hot on her tail. Poe climbed over the backseat to the trunk of the car, crawling over the crates that piled high. He quickly tied a bungee cord across the crates to keep them from falling, and unlatched the trunk. He fired towards the truck behind them, aiming for their tires. Finn rolled down his window and leaned halfway out, rapidly firing his pistol. Poe managed to hit one of the tires, and the truck swerved before maintaining its course.

Rey drove fast past the cars lined up on the exit ramp. She sounds of gunfire reverberated in her skull. She seriously needed to consider getting noise-dampeners before she developed tinnitus or went deaf.Finn sat back down in his seat, fumbling with his clip to reload.

“Hold on!” She shouted. Rey braced herself, and drove forward through the busy intersection hoping beyond hope that no one hit them.

Luck was on her side, as they barreled through without a scratch. The truck was still behind them, but there was room to breathe now.

“Rey, swap with me. Lemme see if I can get this thing airborne,” Poe yelled, his voice strained over the sounds of gunfire and wind.

“Okay,” she shouted. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and crawled over the center console. Finn managed the steering wheel. They began to slow down. Poe jumped into the seat, and floored it. The jolt made her crash into the backseat, and her knee throbbed. She climbed over the seat to the trunk, and took up position. She grabbed her blaster from her belt and checked its charge.

“Why the fuck are they shooting at us?” Finn asked, before propping himself up on the window ledge again.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Poe yelled, his hands flickering over the numerous controls that filled the dash.

Rey aimed towards the truck and started firing. Bullets and blaster-fire sprayed towards her. Just beside her head, something lodged itself in a crate.

A dart. Potentially poisonous. Rey’s eyes widened, and she continued to fire in earnest. Her hands trembled. Icy fear gripped her. Poe swerved hard, and she slammed into one of the crates.

“Poe, hurry the fuck up!” She yelled, recharging her blaster. Panic seized control of her.

“I’m working on it,” He shouted back.

One of the tires blew, and the car swerved hard. Rey slammed into another crate, and lost the grip of her blaster. She cursed and desperately scrambled after it. The nose of the car started to lift off of the ground as the car’s flight engine finally kicked on. The moment the blaster was in her grasp, a yellow dart pierced the skin of her arm. The car started to lift off of the ground, and she began to slide down the trunk. Rey grabbed onto the bungee cord, desperation clawing at her.

But she couldn’t fight the effects of the drug. Her body heated, and her vision spun. Everything darkened around the corners, and she could feel her body start to go numb.

“Finn,” she gasped. But her voice was lost to the cacophony of sound.

Rey’s muscles seized once, before completely relaxing.

The last thing she heard, was her name, screamed from Finn’s fearful lips.

The last thing she felt, was an odd, slight tug emerge between her ribs that pulled at her _just so_.

The last thing Rey thought of, was the dark, glinting mask from her nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As George Washington once said: "shit's about to get real."  
> In the next chapter, our two protags will _finally_ meet! I debated adding it to this chapter, but it was getting too lengthy as it was.  
> I'm so excited to hear what you guys will think about it. I've got so much in store for you all *rubs hands maniacally*.  
> Our favorite hot mess Kylo is also going to get some "screen-time" very soon.  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated as always! They keep me going, honestly.  
> Until next time, 'punks!  
> Cheers!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mind the tags. This chapter contains brief non-con. If you find this material triggering, then I'd advise you to skip down to the page break.

The world was fuzzy. Rey felt warm all over, and her body tingled. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Her muscles were relaxed, and her eyelids felt soldered shut. She tried twitching her fingers, but couldn’t quite feel them.

After a beat, she wondered why she was bothering.

She couldn’t remember.

The air smelled like filtered cigarettes, weed, and synthex. Was she high? Rey certainly felt high. When did she smoke?

She couldn’t remember.

Her thoughts were broken, disjointed.

She felt good. Didn’t know why.

Did it matter, if it felt good?

Why would it matter?

Her ears were ringing. It sounded as though there was a dampener chipped in. How did she get her hands on drugs? It’d been years since she’d last been able to scavenge some. It didn’t feel like it did before. It was something else. Had she found something new and tried it on a whim? That didn’t seem like something she would do. But she also had never been in that situation before, so who was she to say?

Wait, what was she just thinking about?

She couldn’t remember.

A pulse of pleasure throbbed through her body. She wanted to burrow down on the tabletop and lie there forever. Her head was clear, and free. She felt strangely weightless and warm. 

_Shit_. This stuff was _strong_.

Rey heard two voices beside her, their words garbled and unintelligible. Not English. It sounded vaguely Eastern European, but she wasn’t sure. If they came closer, she may be able to figure it out. The voices were deep. Men then.

The hair at the nape of her neck stood at attention, while her gut clenched. Why was she high with two men? Was she at Plutt’s? The only foreign people he dealt with were Caribbean or Ghanian. And he never shared his drugs.Maybe she fixed up that cyberhand better than she thought. At least, well enough to be so bold as to steal from Plutt’s endless supplies.

Wait, cyberhand?

The phantom heat from the explosion ghosted across her skin. The light from the flames devouring her shop burned her retinas.

 _Right_. Fragments of the last two days started to lethargically trail in from beneath the depths of her high. What was the last thing she remembered?

Finn screaming her name as she fell from the _Falcon_.

Rey’s heart pounded, and her muscles stiffened. There was an instant switch in her mind from dissociation to hyperawareness that warred with the languid high that suffused her bones and muscles into stillness. Rey tried to twitch her fingers again, or even open her eyes, but her body refused to obey her. She wondered what they shot her up with. Or how long it would last. She wondered if she would live long enough to find out. She struggled to breathe.

The two voices came closer, and Rey felt the pads of someone’s metal fingers trace the side of her face. She wanted to recoil from the touch, to snarl at who ever had the audacity to _back the fuck off_. If she could tilt her head even the slightest inch, she would bite them off.

But she couldn’t move.

The air in the room was too thin, and she struggled to regain control of her disobedient body. Her ears strained to hear over the sound of her blood rushing through her veins. She needed to move. Needed to shout. Needed to do literally _anything_ to defend herself, to get away, to run. Her chest rose and fell quickly with her rapid, shallow breathing. Her head felt both light and impossibly heavy, and she wanted to rip it off of her shoulders.

The two men were talking. Polish, they were speaking in Polish. Rey knew bits and pieces of the language, but was far from fluent. She could only understand some of the words they were saying. Focusing was hard.

They were talking about her, that much she could figure out. The hand trailed down lower to paw at her breasts through her shirt. Rey wanted to scream at the person to stop. She wanted to run away. She wanted to rip their fucking hand off, cell layer by cell layer. She heard the sound of ripped cloth, as one of the men tore her shirt open, and her torso jerked with the force. Rey’s panic was rising. Her limbs were as heavy as stones. 

She tried to scream, but she couldn’t remember how.

She felt a ball of panic rise in her throat, and she inwardly thrashed inside of her motionless body. The man’s hands pinched and squeezed at her skin. Rey wanted to chop them off. She willed her eyes to open at least. If she could do that much, it was only a matter of time before she could control the rest of her limbs. The hands left her skin. She wasn’t foolish enough to feel relief. She took the opportunity to focus on prying open her weighted lids.

A loud slap muffled her ears, and her left cheek flared with pain. The raw skin tingled from the harsh sting. Fury flared inside of her, and her fingers twitched with the lust for blood. Who ever this sick fuck was, they were going to _get it_ when Rey woke up.

“ _Obudź się, złodziej_ ,” a gruff voice demanded. Rey didn’t know what he was saying. He slapped her again, and the pain blazed white hot. Dimly, she could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Her eyelids flickered. She was getting there. She couldn’t wait until she had full control over her limbs. Rey was going to tear these bastards apart, and she would enjoy _every second of it_.

“ _Pierdolić!_ _Dałeś jej za dużo,_ ” the grisly voice above her shouted. She got the sense that wasn’t directed towards her.

Her eyelids fluttered again. Fluttering was good. It meant her muscles were beginning to respond. Now, she had to try to keep her eyes open. Her rage flowed through her like lava, motivating her to keep going.

“ _Pieprzyć się! Dałem jej standardową kwotę_ ,” the other voice dimly shouted back. He sounded further away. He was possibly in a different room.

Rey’s eyes opened, and her vision swam. It was as though she were seeing through a layer of fog. A large man with ice blond hair, and glowing blue cyber-eyes loomed over her. Rey watched through bleary eyes as he raised a mechanical arm, bicep wrapped in a red armband, and slapped her again. Her head swung to the side from the force. Pain bloomed once more on her battered cheek. She was getting _really_ fucking sick of this cunt smacking her around.

“Morning, thief,” he sneered. His accent was thick, and hard to understand. Her head throbbed, and she squeezed her eyes shut briefly to gather her bearings. Her sluggish mind wanted to stay like this, to close her eyes and ignore the outside world. It was tempting to pretend nothing else was happening. That she wasn’t kidnapped, and that she wasn’t being assaulted. She could stay within the comfort of her mind, away from the pain and the fear.

Mechanical fingers gripped her chin cruelly, metal fingertips digging into the raw skin of her cheek. Her eyes flew open again, prickling with tears from the pain. The man smirked, and his chromed-out teeth glinted in the dim light. She slowly ground her teeth together, working the muscles in her jaw. She breathed deep, while the room softly spun, as she struggled to focus. The combination of pain and dizziness was making her stomach heave.

“Where you take our guns?” He demanded, getting straight to the point. Rey stared blankly up at him. Guns? What guns? She hadn’t stolen any guns. She tried to remember what she had scavenged last. She thought it might’ve been some nav tech pulled from the interior of a dilapidated hovercar, but she wasn’t sure. Had she actually taken guns instead? She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember? If she’d stolen guns, wouldn’t she remember doing that? It didn’t happen often, and Plutt normally inspected them, taking the best ones for himself, while leaving her with the rest to repair or sell in her shop. So that couldn’t have been it.

Working the muscles in her cheeks and jaw as best as she could, she weakly spat at the man. A glob of her saliva splattered onto the white wife-beater he wore. Rey felt strangely victorious at the sight of it.

That is, until he reached out and pinched her nipple _hard_ between his fingers. She wheezed, and her eyes watered. It felt like he was trying to rip the sensitive flesh off of her body. The pain was sharp and intense, throbbing through her high. She wanted to thrash, to scream, to rip off his mechanical arm. She’d never felt more helpless in her life.

The gangbanger relented, and she nearly cried out from relief. Her entire chest ached from his abuse. His metallic brow was drawn low, and his thin lips curled back over chrome teeth in a snarl.

“Where. Our. Guns?” He demanded. Rey wondered if she could even form words right now. Nerves settled into her gut, and her palms sweat. Even though she had no idea what the man was talking about, she felt guilt settle into a hard ball in her stomach all the same. Rey must’ve stolen from his gang at some point without realising it. Still, she refused to feel sorry.

“Dunno,” she slurred after some effort. Her tongue felt heavy and useless against her teeth.

“Bullshit,” he spat. His snarl grew as he glared down at her. He reached out and roughly pinched her other nipple. Again, that searing pain throbbed through her body. She wanted to scream. The tears were flowing freely now, trailing down to pool near her ears. She felt disgusting. Trapped. Violated. She wanted to get out of her body, and peel off her skin if necessary.

She wondered if she could comm someone, and try to get help. But she would need to use a voice command, or at least use some gestures, and neither of those were an option. She didn’t even know who she could comm to get help. She didn’t know how to connect with the Resistance, she couldn’t afford Trauma Team, and the police were infamous for being corrupt and ineffectual.

She knew she was sweating profusely now from the heat of her fear. She wanted to sink back into the oblivion that her high promised her. She wanted an antidote immediately to eviscerate the gangbanger looming over her.

Wait, what was she just thinking about again?

She couldn’t remember.

“We saw _Falcon_ ,” the man spat, venom dripping off of the words, “Han Solo stole our guns. You work for Han Solo. You had our guns. Where are they?”

Wait. The crates. Was that what Leia had asked them to transport? Weapons? Had Leia and Han set them up? Was this punishment for fucking up the deal with the Yakuza? Rey didn’t know, and her uncertainty made her heart race. The potential betrayal speared through her chest like a knife, making it hard to breathe. Were they really the type of people to do that? She honestly didn’t know them well enough to say one way or another.

But she couldn’t think like that, especially not right now. She clung to the memory of their kindness towards her, and the easy acceptance they made her feel, and refused to give up on them, even if they’d already given up on her.

“Dunno,” she wheezed. Her head throbbed again.

Wait, what was she just thinking about?

She couldn’t remember.

The world was fuzzy.

Rey felt warm all over, and her body tingled.

She felt good. _Really_ good.

Whatever flowed through her, she wanted _more_.

Now that she could see, the room had a neon cactus that lit the wall in a vibrant lime green. There was writing beneath it, but she couldn’t make it out. She wondered what it had to do with anything. Then her vision spun again, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut tight in order to not be sick. 

“ _Pieprzyć to z suki_ ,” a distant voice shouted. Rey jumped, and remembered where she was again.

“ _Świetny pomysł,_ ” the man above her smirked. His mechanical hands reached for his belt. Rey’s eyes widened. A wild terror unlike any she’d ever known pumped through her veins. Her heart raced, her palms sweat, heat flushed through her, and she shrunk back into the table beneath her prone body. Tears flowed freely from her eyes. She wracked her brain, trying to think of something— _anything_ —that could help her out of this. Her thoughts slipped away from her like oil on water. She tried to cling desperately to rational thought, even as her mind whispered to let go and give in to the sweetness of the high.

 _Tug_.

There was that strange twinge just between her ribs again. It seemed to ripple throughout her body like waves on a pond. It felt more pronounced now. She still didn’t understand it.

_Tug._

It pulled again. The gangbanger above her started to tear at her pants. Her throat constricted, and she felt her gut heave. She screwed her eyes shut, concentrated on the strange thread between her ribs, and mentally _pulled._

Somehow, inexplicably, she knew that whatever this sensation was didn’t go on forever. That it had to come to an end. She fiercely hoped that she wasn’t dissociating, that it wasn’t some delusion.

Her pants were tugged forcefully down, until she lay beneath the man in nothing but the tattered remains of her shirt. The man crawled on top of her still body. Rey pulled relentlessly on the strange tether within her.

 _Tug_.

Her eyes flew wide open.

A response.

_Tug._

“I ask one more time, thief. Where. Our. Guns?” The man snarled. Rey glared up at him. She fantasied all of the different ways that she could decimate his cyberware. She would start by crushing his glowing eyes one at a time with her bare hands. The drugs tried to dull her fear and her rage, but she clung to the latter with all of her might.

“Dunno,” she wheezed out, evenly meeting his glare.

The man’s glowing eyes burned. His large mechanical hands undid his pants and chucked them off of his body. Rey’s eyes widened. She wanted to escape, to run, to get as far away as fast as possible. She wanted to curl up and hide, to become invisible. She wanted to fight and tear this fucker apart limb by limb. Every couple of seconds her vision swam. The revulsion and terror she felt were still trapped within her mind, as her body remained as limp and atrophied as ever. She thought that if she could, she would be sick.

Shouts sounded distantly. She couldn’t understand them, but the man over her stopped moving. She fervently hoped that he would be distracted enough to stop entirely. The shouts suddenly got louder.

“C _o do cholery?_ ” He barked towards the doors.

_Crash!_

The sharp shattering of glass reverberated in her ears, and the man atop her jumped in surprise. In her periphery, she watched as a black form was hurled through the glass door, before collapsing in an unmoving heap on the floor. An electronic hiss and crackle filled her ears, and a brilliant blaze of red flared in the corner of her vision.

“Ren,” the man atop of her whispered, “niech śmierć zmiłuje się.” He scrambled into action, and reached for his discarded pants. His glowing eyes were wide. His hands trembled in his haste to retrieve his weapon.

Rey watched as a large, black-clad figure stalked towards the gangbanger. The room glowed red from the blaze of his crackling laser sword. Rey’s heart stopped. She’d only known of one other person in the world who had a red laser sword, and though this one looked different, she struggled to breathe properly all the same. Rey still couldn’t get a good look at the man, this Ren, but between his sheer size, the predatory confidence in his step, and the ancient weapon clutched surely in his hand, he was like something out of a nightmare.

The gangbanger aimed his shaking blaster towards the other man, and fired.

Ren raised his laser sword and deflected each blast. The room was bathed in a vicious red glow. He raised his left arm, and the gangbanger crashed back into a wall from an invisible force. Rey watched, frozen from more than just the drugs. Her mind stuttered, repeating “ _What the fuck? How the fuck?”_ on a loop.

Ren stalked forward, and his heavy steps were slow and sure. He raised his hand to the Polish man’s throat, and lifted him cleanly off of the floor. Ren held the other man’s face to his own, before driving the laser sword through his groin. Rey flinched at the sudden, brutal display of violence. The gangbanger cried out in agony through the vice-like choke-hold, his face purple and the veins in his forehead popping. Ren thrust the sword upwards along the spine, removing his hand at the last second, to cleave the gangbanger in two.

There was no blood, since the heat from the blade cauterised the wounds. Rey lay frozen. She felt sick and clammy. Her vision swam in dizzying circles. Yet a part of her that she didn’t want to acknowledge felt only a chilling vindication, as she watched the attempted rapist be murdered in cold blood. A dark satisfaction filled that small part of her, and her mind whispered that he deserved nothing less.

Still, she tried to remain as small as possible, melting against the tabletop. Her ears rang at the sudden silence, broken only by the hiss and crackle of the unstable blade. Her blood rushed in her ears. The drugs tried to sooth her, telling her that she was invisible, that she was safe. 

Ren turned around.

The air in the room evaporated.

Rey knew that mask.

The one that haunted her nightmares.

 _But that was impossible._

She wondered if this was another hallucination. If the drugs were projecting her dreams onto reality. Ren slowly stepped towards her. He was massive, easily dwarfing her own frame. The silver along his jaw glinted red from the light of his weapon. Rey struggled to breathe, and her heart raced. She was shaking, she realised. Ren raised a gloved hand towards her, and his cool, leather-clad fingertips gently traced down her temple, and tucked a a few stray strands of hair behind the curve of her ear. She flinched at the touch, and stared up at the dark, faceless mask, with wide eyes. It was impossible to tell if he was a friend or foe. Her thoughts were still stuttering with disbelief. _It was Death, here to collect her,_ it whispered _._

She felt the insertion of a livewire jacking into her biomon.

Rey didn’t understand. Why he was just staring down at her, doing _nothing._ If he was to kill her, why wasn’t he doing it yet? What did he want?

The delirious part of her—which was most of her if she was being honest—was unconcerned. He’d promised he would always find her, catch her, and make her his. Promises made in dreams were as good as promises made in reality, after all.

Wait, what was she just thinking?

She couldn’t remember.

She felt good. _Really_ good.

Whatever this drug was, she wanted _more._

And this man above her, masked and terrifying though he was, would help her.

He’d just killed for her, after all.

She felt a tug, but this was different from all of the ones before. It was as though a switch in her mind had been flipped, and all of her systems powered down. Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her, and dulled her senses down to nothing. Her eyes unwillingly fluttered shut, and whatever stiffness remained in her prone body went limp. The pull to sleep was irresistible.

The last thing she felt was his thick arms sliding beneath her, as he effortlessly hoisted her into the air.

 _Safe_ , her mind whispered.

Then there was nothing.

 

* * *

 

Rey awakened with a gasp. She was instantly alert, and wiggled her fingers and toes, testing her mobility. The answering response from her limbs was a short lived blessing. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed with static bracers to a chair that sat in the middle of a bedroom. She fought against them, and winced when they zapped her skin. She was draped in a robe, and the terry-cloth felt soft on her exposed skin. She didn’t know whether or not she was in a hotel or someone’s home. A headache pulsed at her temples, the aftereffects of the drugs, she was sure. The entire left side of her face felt raw. Her muscles were stiff and sore.

She scanned the room. Her eyes taking in the polished concrete walls and floors, or surprisingly luxurious, if minimalistic, accommodations. But the dark, hooded figure who sat on the bed across from her was inescapable. He was watching her. _Ren_. She felt a shudder slither down her neck, as she took in the dark, glinting mask. It was menacing in a visceral way. He was crouched over, resting his thick forearms on sturdy knees, as his large hands dangled loose. Clearly, this masked terror did not consider her to be much of a threat.

Rey didn’t know what he wanted. Ren had killed the men who had drugged and tried to rape her. But he had also taken her hostage for himself. Though he had helped her before, he was clearly not an ally. She would need to tread carefully.

“Where am I?” She asked, her voice small and scratchy. Her mouth was as dry as the desert.

The man in the mask considered her for a moment, tilting his head slightly. Reading him was like reading stone.

“You’re my guest,” he replied evenly. Ren’s impossibly deep voice was gravelly with mechanical distortion. It sent a shiver down her spine. What did he mean by that?

“Why?” She asked. Though she could not see his eyes, she felt the weight of them on her body. She felt vulnerable, and she hated it.

“Why what?” He countered. Again, his voice was soft, if monotone. Her mind was still reeling at the thought that this man was real, and not a figment of her nightmares. She felt lost, and thrown into the middle of something so much larger than she could possibly understand.

“Why am I here? Why did you kill the others?” She asked. Her eyes studied him, taking in the full breadth of his broad shoulders, and the thickness of his arms, torso, and legs. He was massive, a veritable Goliath cloaked in tactical black armour. She doubted she could take him in a clean fight, so she would have to be careful, strategic.

“They were in the way,” Ren replied simply. His flippancy chilled her blood. Rey was no stranger to violence, no survivor of Jakku was, but his casual appraisal of death was deeply disturbing. She could practically feel the death that permeated the air around him. She wondered how much blood was on his hands. Then she wondered if she really wanted to know. She shrank back into the chair, her body heating beneath the weight of his scrutinous gaze. Her palms began to sweat.

“I suppose you expect me to thank you,” she said. He’d saved her life, after all. That meant that she owed him a life debt. She fought to maintain control of her breathing at the thought. Ren could make her do anything, make her kill or steal for him. The number of ways he could exploit her were endless. It made her heart race.

“You’re still afraid,” Ren said wistfully, his voice whisper soft. Again, he tilted his head just so. She had the twisted sense that he was enjoying this, watching her discomfort.She glared at him, even as a her stomach flipped. She didn’t know how the fuck he could tell she was afraid him, but she wouldn’t give him anything, not even a single _fucking_ inch, of her weaknesses.

“That tends to happen when you’re being held hostage by a creature in a mask,” she spat.

Ren fell quiet at that, and she could practically taste it as he considered her. If her comment bothered him, he didn’t show it. He instead unfurled his body to stand before her.He loomed over her, and though she was tall for a woman, she’d never felt so small in her life. The cold look of his mask staring down at her chilled her blood.

As he towered over her, she could sense the shift within him. The interrogation had begun. She straightened her spine, and stared up at him evenly. Despite the irregularity of her breath, and the racing of her heart, she refused to be intimidated by him.

“Do you know why those men wanted you?” He asked. He spoke slowly, whether to accommodate the modulator, or because he thought her akin to a child, was indiscernible. The weight of his gaze burned into her skin with its singular intensity. She shivered. Rey felt her dislike for him growing more, and she glared at him.

“What’s it to you?” She asked, with her teeth bared.

Ren just stared down at her, unflinching. He circled her, and she kept her gaze straight ahead, fixated on the one window in the room. She heard him grab something, and watched out of the corner of her eye as he pulled up another chair beside her. He sat uncomfortably close to her.

Her reflection stared back at her in the two thin strips of metal that slashed through where his eyes would be. The metal adorning the mask’s jaw glinted like a knife’s edge. She could feel the ghost of his breath tickle the nape of her neck, even through the mask, and she shivered, her blood running cold. Rey couldn’t look at his mask from this close up, it was too intense. Too intimate. The air was too thin, and she struggled to breathe properly. Every nerve ending in her body was hyperaware of his closeness. She wanted to get away. She hated it. Hated him. The restraints around her wrists zapped her when she squirmed, and she pursed her lips together to muffle her cry of pain. The entire time she sat there, fidgeting, he silently watched her.

“Do you really not know who I am?” Ren asked. The memory of his gloved hand on her throat, and his seductive promises burned in the front of her mind. She wanted to scrub her skin of invisible ash. Her skin grew hot, and felt stretched too tight over her bound limbs. His head was cocked to the side. Part of her wished he would take off the mask. Part of her was afraid of what she would see underneath. She felt herself squirm beneath the weight of his intense scrutiny.

“Should I?” She asked instead. Rey studied the window on the other side of the room. She still couldn’t look at him. She didn’t trust herself to. She still couldn’t parse out whether he was more friend or foe. He hadn’t hurt her yet, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could say that.

“How did the Red Gang find you?” He asked suddenly. Her brow pinched in confusion. Rey had no idea who the bloody fuck that was.

“The men who kidnapped you,” Ren offered, answering her unspoken question. She felt her stomach drop at the casual way he said it. As though kidnapping were an every day occurrence. Then again, from what little she’d gleaned from him so far, he seemed the type to be around hostages often. He must be a gangster himself, Rey mused. It explained his casual approach to violence and kidnapping. Maybe everyone in his gang wore a mask.

“And you don’t mean yourself?” Rey snarked. She couldn’t keep the remark in if she tried. He _had_ kidnapped her himself, after all.

He ignored her. He leaned in closer, and Rey struggled to squirm away. She felt more zaps around her wrists, and she jerked, causing the restraints to zap her again. When she settled, his mask was inches away from her skin, and his breath ghosted down her neck and exposed décolletage. She wanted to run away, zaps be damned. She wanted to shove him off of her.

“I don’t know how they found us,” Rey answered after she realized he was still expecting an answer. And she really didn’t. They must’ve tracked them down somehow, but she was ignorant to the specifics.

He hummed beside her. Rey’s gaze was drawn back towards him. She watched as Ren’s masked gaze slowly swept down the length of her body, indicated only by the slight tilt of his head. She felt heat flush her body. Her breath caught in her throat. She pretended that she didn’t notice.

“I’m looking for two domestic terrorists.” he declared, the mask once again trained on her face. His voice was monotone through the modulator. “I think you might be able to help me find them.”

 _Finn and Poe._ She couldn’t help it as her eyes widened. Her heart stopped in her chest, stomach plummeting, before it started racing against her ribs. Her palms began to sweat. How did he know? Was he sent on behalf of the Yakuza? Was he planning on getting vengeance? Would he sell her back to Plutt?

“How do you expect me to help?” Rey asked, suddenly still.

“We’ve been able to identify most of the Resistance’s whereabouts, but I need to know their location specifically.“ Ren paused, shifting closer to her. “I know you know where they are,” his voice hardened, “so tell me.”

Though he spoke softly, she recognized the command for what it was. She felt compelled to answer him, against her better judgement. But she couldn’t betray the Resistance like that, not when they’d been so kind and so welcoming to her. Not when she’s finally begun to make friends for the first time in her life.

“I’m not telling you anything,” she seethed, her eyes blazing as she glared at the man. The barest hint of a laugh escaped from the fathomless mask.

“We’ll see,” Ren purred. He was so cocksure of himself that it made her blood boil. She hated him. 

He lifted his hand, and the pads of his leather-clad fingertips ghosted over her skin. She strained away from him as much as she could. She felt the insertion of a livewire as it jacked into her biomon again.

Indignation burned inside of her at the intrusion, and she struggled against her restraints once more. The static cuffs zapped her skin, and she winced. She wanted Ren far the fuck away from her head. The fucking bastard.

It was uncomfortable, to say the least. It wasn’t as painful as she expected it to be, but it was as though there was a severe pinch in a part of her brain she’d never felt before. He pilfered through her memories with a startling, practiced ease. Rey realized then that this was not only something Ren had done before, but something that he’d _mastered_. But he didn’t dive straight into her recent memories, like she’d anticipated. Instead, she was pulled deep into her past, reliving each moment with startling clarity.

 

_She was six. Scrawny arms wrapped tightly around her emaciated belly. The ache in her stomach gnawed at her, desperate for food. Plutt had forced her to scavenge the western piles all day for a working techscanner. She hadn’t found one. He hadn’t let her eat. He promised her that unless she found what he wanted, she should get used to going hungry. Tomorrow she would do better. She had to. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and she hugged herself. But to Rey, the ache for her parent’s comfort was worse still than the ache for food. They would make her a feast, when they came back. She cried herself to sleep that night, the feast’s phantom taste lingering on her tongue._

 

_She was eight. She had just hacked her hair short, and used the free scraps to decorate the dolls lined up on the sand. She had three now, after finding some more stained bedsheets. They were faceless, and only vaguely resembled people, but she didn’t care. They were her best and closest friends. She clutched them in her hands, and talked to them about her day, about how much she hated Plutt, and how much she missed her parents. They were away on a secret Resistance mission, she explained to the dolls, but once it was over they’d be back for her for sure. Her friends could come with her when that happened, if they wanted. All she needed to do was be good and wait. Her friends understood, and said they’d never leave her, because that’s what friends do._

 

_She was fourteen. She didn’t know how long she’d stared at the exposed ducts in the ceiling, listening to the woman’s screams that rang out in the night. She tried not to listen to it, but ignoring her pain was an act of futility. Each cry to her assailants to stop made her jump. Each shout of pain made her want to hide away. Each corresponding laugh or cheer made her sick. They hadn’t come for her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She knew Plutt had plans to sell her off to the whorehouse next year. She needed to prove herself invaluable to him in a way that didn’t involve her body._

_But she didn’t want to think about that right now. She didn’t want to think about anything. So she closed her eyes, and imagined that the stale wind that barely grazed her skin was actually that of a light sea breeze. She imagined that it wasn’t rust and dirt that flooded her nose, but the rich salt of the ocean, and crisp night air. She was alone on this island, accompanied by nothing more than a vast expanse of green, the waves lapping at the steep cliffs below, and the pale moonlight that glowed atop her skin._

_Here, she was a slave to no one._

_Here, nothing could hurt her._

_Here, she was free._

 

 _She was seventeen. The pain was unbearable tonight. The gnawing hole inside felt like a gaping wound in her chest. She felt empty and alone. So,_ so, _alone. Sometimes she thought that this bone-deep isolation was all she would ever know. Sobs wracked her body, as she cradled her old dolls close to her. Whatever comfort she used to glean from the facsimile of their friendship was long gone. She wondered what was wrong with her, why she was unworthy, undeserving, of the companionship given so freely to others. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling like an outcast, like a reject. She was terrified that she wouldn’t. That she would never know what it meant to be held, or loved. That she would never know what it felt like to belong._

_She had never hated her parents more. What mission was worth more than a life with their own daughter? What reason did they have to justify leaving her all alone? Maybe they never even wanted her, just like nobody else did. Maybe they couldn’t wait to get her off of their hands, and never thought of her again.She clutched the dolls closer, desperately trying to muffle her cries. She’d never felt so alone._

_She was nothing._

_She was nobody._

 

With each tear that dripped down her face, her shame grew. The loneliness and isolation that she suppressed was like a chasm that tore her asunder, ripping apart the delusion that she’d been living in the past forty-eight hours. These friends she’d made, were no more than strangers. The kindness that they showed her was not unique to her. She wasn’t special. It could be revoked at any time. The Resistance only wanted her around because they were desperate for more hands, not because they needed her skills to further the cause. She’d been a fool to think otherwise.

And her parents. To think that she could forget about them so easily. Her shame rippled through her, and she fought to keep from breaking down entirely. The hole that they’d left inside of her heart felt flayed wide open. All of the pain that she kept suppressed deep inside, was near impossible to lock away again.

Her deepest insecurities were laid bare for him to see. That she felt worthless, and undeserving of certain comforts, because she had never worked hard enough to earn them. That she was inadequate, and would never measure up to being enough, which is why everyone had always left her.

She hated him. Hazel met metal-slashed obsidian as she glared furiously at him. Tears fell freely down her flushed cheeks.

“Get out of my head,” she hissed, her voice thick and husky.

He didn’t respond. The ass.

Rey hated him. All of her pain flowed hot through her veins. Her muscles coiled tight, and the static shock of the braces paled in comparison to the agony she felt inside. She wanted to scream, to _hurt._

She’d start with Ren.

 _Tug_.

That strange sensation between her ribs pulled at her again. It gave her pause. The man was too busy pillaging her memories to notice. She struggled to retain a grasp on the strange thread, since he was constantly redirecting her thoughts.

Rey explored the strange tether, and pushed as hard as she could. She felt a subtle twinge of electricity in her fingertips, like when she’d touched a sparking wire.

She gasped when she found its end within him. Was this how he’d found her? Had she been pulling towards him this entire time? She pushed further on, and it was as though she were discovering a small, unused server within him.

_What the hell was this?_

She’d never heard of anything like this before. It was as though she was using an access panel in the back of his mind. His very own internal data network, ripe for her to scavenge. She pushed inside, inexorably drawn forwards, and tumbled headfirst into his memories.

 

_Thirteen-year-old Ben clung to the shadows as he watched Han crowd Leia up to the wall, anger blazing in the older man’s bloodshot eyes. He didn’t know his father was back in town. It had been four months since he’d last laid eyes on the man in the flesh. His mother only just got back in town three days ago, having just finished up her extended stay in DC._

_He wasn’t thrilled to see either of them again. He couldn’t wait until they were both gone again, and he could have free roam of the house. No more expectant or worried looks, no more stilted small talk as his parents acted like they cared, no monitoring his every step and every breath. If anything, he felt a swell of trepidation at their return. He felt compelled to perform when they were home, to step into the role of their son, because it felt so unnatural. When he was himself, they became fearful, concerned. They thought something was wrong with him._

_Maybe there was._

_He padded closer, trying to hear what they were saying, and was mindful to keep to the shadows. He’d always been good at hiding in the darkness, at being unseen._

_They were arguing about him. Again. Their hushed voices were like bullets fired back and forth across a battlefield._

_“Maybe if you stuck around for more than two fucking seconds you could at least pretend to give a damn about him,” Leia seethed. Her dark eyes were as hard as steel, as she glared up at her husband._

_“That’s fucking rich coming from the woman who’s always working in DC for months at a time,” Han sniped back._

_“I will_ not _sacrifice my career for you,” Leia growled._

_“You don’t know the meaning of sacrifice, princess,” Han sneered._

_The slap that rang in the kitchen was loud, and Ben flinched as though he’d been struck himself._

_“I will not apologize for my career. At least I’m not running around getting drunk and into trouble instead of raising our fucking son. Some father of the year, you are,” she seethed. Her eyes blazed with her fury. He snarled at her, even as his shoulders slumped in defeat._

_“You know what he’s like. He’s got too much Vader in him.” Han paused, sighing deep. His voice softened. “He scares me, Leia.”_

_The weight of his father’s rejection crashed down upon him, nearly crumpling him to the floor.All of the air escaped from his lungs in a silent wheeze. Ben knew Han had never liked him, since their relationship had always been strained and distant. But to hear the genuine fear in his father’s voice made him sick to his stomach. His hands shook, and his heart beat a wild rhythm against his ribs. He wanted to scream, to rage, to run. He felt like an intruder in his own home. Ben had always felt that he was unwelcome, and unwanted, but now he_ knew _how true that was. Hot tears stung his eyes. But he stayed quiet, trembling silently in the shadows. He needed to hear the rest of this._

_Leia sighed, “I know. He scares me too sometimes. I just fear what he’ll do one day. What he’ll become. We can’t keep running away from this. Either of us. We need to do something before it’s too late.”_

_What did they think he would do? Why were they so convinced he was only capable of destruction? Neither of them were around long enough to realize that wasn’t who he was, or the only thing he was capable of. But they didn’t care to know. They just wanted to control him, and they didn’t know how. They didn’t care that the other kid had pulled a vibroknife on him, and that he had to fight back if he wanted to live. The fact that he used the kid’s knife against him didn’t make him a bad person. Did it?_

_Ben didn’t know anymore. He certainly_ felt _like a bad person right now. It made him afraid. What if he was bad? What if he couldn’t help it? Was there something wrong with him? There must be. The other kids were afraid of him too, always had been. Now Han and Leia were too. He felt adrift in the middle of an acid storm, pain lacerating his insides, and he had no idea how to move forward._

_“We can send him to Luke,” Leia said after a moment._

_Han scoffed, “Absolutely not. He’ll become unstoppable if we do that.”_

_So Han was too afraid of his own son to step back and allow him to breathe. Ben certainly felt breathless right now. He absently ran his thumb along his fingers._

_“I know, but he’s our only hope,” Leia sighed. Han backed away from the wall, a drunken stagger in his step. Leia stepped away from it as well, and ran her hands wearily down her face._

_“I’m so scared, Han,” she whispered. Han pulled her into his arms, running soothing circles down her small back._

_“Me too, princess,” he sighed, rested his cheek atop her head, and squeezed his eyes shut. “me too.”_

_Ben crept silently back to his room. The sharpness of their rejection was the worst form of agony. It was a physical anguish that carved through him. He was trembling, he realised. The second he closed his door, he fell to his knees, with his palms splayed, and fingers clutching desperately at the carpet. He tried to control his breath, his emotions, his_ everything _._

_They feared him._

_They hated him._

_They thought he was a monster._

_Just like everyone else._

_He could never be their perfect son, no matter how much he tried. Could never measure up to the colossal weight of their expectations. And they despised him for it._

_The rejection consumed him. Rage swelled in his blood, and he clung to it, desperate to feel its power flood through him._

_His sadness made him weak._

_His anger would make him strong._

_He sank back onto his heels, kneeling before his bed. He curled his hands into white-knuckled fists by his sides, in a futile attempt to quell his trembling._

_He thought of the comparison to his grandfather, Vader. He embraced it. He would use his pain as fuel, and with it, he would be a force to be reckoned with. With his anger coiling his muscles tight, he formed a plan. Ben knew what he had to do now, he just hoped that he had the strength to do it._

_If they thought him a monster, then a monster he would become._

 

Rey was shoved harshly from Ren’s mind, and she stared at him, struggling to understand what she’d just witnessed. He backed away from her quickly, his fists tight by his sides. 

“How?” He breathed.

Rey looked at the tall, masked man before her with a new level of understanding. The abandonment he’d felt resonated with her on a deep, visceral level. She recognized something of herself within him, and it terrified her.

Her thoughts were scrambled. She felt off kilter, and didn’t know what to make of any of it, least of all this creature. This man.

Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he stalked towards her. He crowded her, his mask hovering inches away from her face. Rey tried to ignore his scent, which she was tempted to breathe in by the lungful. She couldn’t look away from him if she tried.

“How the _fuck_ did you just do that?” He demanded. His sudden fury made her heart pound. The part of her that was used to Plutt’s abuse bubbled up, demanding that she acquiesce and deescalate if she wanted to survive.The command in his voice was impossible to disobey. She shrunk back in her chair.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, her voice smaller than she would’ve liked.

“Who _are_ you?” Ren asked. She could _feel_ his gaze imploring her own. Rey’s eyes flickered away from his mask. She couldn’t breathe when he looked at her like that.

“I’m nobody,” she said, voice hollow. She felt a swell of shame in her gut at the admission. She glanced back up at his cold mask, wishing again that he would take the damn thing off. It was bloody terrifying. 

“ _No_ ,” he breathed, “you are,” he paused again, searching for the right words, “this is something else.”

The way he said that sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes locked with his mask once more, and she found herself struggling to breathe. She stiffened in her chair, and the change in position made the opening to her robe gape wider.

Ren noticed.

She could feel the heat of his gaze atop her skin as his eyes trailed down the length of her body. When his mask tilted back to look at her face again, her mouth ran dry. She swallowed.

She hated herself for it. For the way that her body was responding to him. She hated that he _knew_. She hated that he’d so easily flickered through some of her most painful memories with a flippant ease. She hated that she empathized with him as much as she did. 

She hated him.

“You need a teacher,” he said at last, his deep voice husky and earnest. Her brow furrowed as she considered him.

“A teacher?” She asked. What could he possibly teach her? The ten best ways to maim a person with a spoon?

“You have no formal combat training. No in depth technical knowledge. You’re desperate to leave Jakku behind and make a name for yourself. I know how much you want that, I can _feel_ it. And I can give it all to you,” he offered, his body tense.

Power. He was offering her power. That’s what Ren’s teaching would give her. And she’d be damned if she wasn’t desperate for some semblance of it. The offer was heady. With the kind of power he was offering to give her, she could completely start over her life in Coruscant. She could get the resources to start the search to track down her parents. She could guarantee that no one ever tried to own or enslave her again. Her brain short-circuited. Her brows drew low as she scrutinized his dark, expressionless mask.It was impossible to gauge his sincerity.

Rey didn’t trust him. She couldn’t. Ren had embraced his identity as a monster, and she could never live with herself if she became the same.

“Why? Why would you do that for me?” She asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. Of all the proposals she’d received over the course of the past few days, this was the most terrifying, and yet, the most thrilling.

He leaned back, putting some much needed distance between them. Her nose was still filled with the rich scent of him as he moved away, and it felt like she was saturated in it at this point. His eyes raked down her body again, pausing infinitesimally at the gaping opening of her robe. She hated him.

Kylo raised his dark mask to her face again, and she felt herself falling into it.

“You’re strong,” he said at last, voice soft but firm, “stronger than you know. You have so much potential.” He paused, and the tension in his body released infinitesimally. “You could be unstoppable.”

There was a touch of awe in his modulated voice, and she wondered if the effects of the drugs were still coursing through her system. His reverence was sincere, she could _feel_ it. She didn’t know what to make of it. How to react to it. She didn’t know if it made her ore or less afraid of this master of death. 

But no amount of flattery could distract Rey from the fact that he had still murdered several people in cold blood, and kidnapped and restrained her. She wondered if he suffered from cyberpsychosis. It would explain his indifference towards human life. The prospective diagnosis was chilling. If true, then she needed to get out of here. She subtly shifted away from him, trying to ignore her rapid pulse and clammy hands. She needed to distract him. Then she could focus on getting free.

“I might take better to your offer if I wasn’t tied to a chair,” she said. Rey struggled against her restraints for emphasis, and the static shock felt like a tickle at this point. His mask darted down towards the braces, as if he had forgotten about them. When his head tilted forwards to hers again, there was an apprehension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a second ago. She swallowed.

“If you agree, I’ll let you go,” Ren replied evenly.

From his position, it was a sensible enough offer.

But she wasn’t in his position. She was desperately trying to escape from hers. There was no way that she was going to just blindly agree with anything that he said. 

“And if I want time to think about it?” She asked. His rigid body stiffened further. His hands were balled in tight fists.

“Then you will need to remain under my supervision until you come to a decision,” he answered. Rey glared at the mask. What did he mean by that?

“So you’re just going to keep me tied up until I say yes?” She asked, indignation rising in her stomach. Fat fucking chance of that happening. She’d love to see him try to keep her in this chair.

“I could,” he said, and tilted his head, “but something tells me that wouldn’t be wise.”

“You should listen to that voice more often, it might do you some good,” she sniped back.

“I’ll give you three days,” he said, settling back in his chair. He crossed his thick arms across his chest, which added to his brawn. She wondered if he knew just how imposing the simple action made him appear. 

She contemplated the man across from her, taking in the tall, strong form swathed in dark, tactical armour, and that damned mask. Her head throbbed from the events of the day, and all of the talking was exacerbating the pain in her cheek. She longed for a shower, wanting to wash off the phantom touch of the attempted rapist. She hadn’t eaten in hours. Her mouth was still dry, and felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. She needed to pee.

It was safe to say that Rey was not in the best headspace to be making any kind of agreement with a homicidal masked men, no matter how familiar his trauma may feel.

But refusal meant death. And Rey didn’t exactly want to die. Three days was plenty of time to hatch a plan. She just needed to lower his guard and strike when the time was right.

“Alright,” she said, meeting that dark, fathomless mask with an even look, “Three days then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polish Translation (courtesy of Google Translate, so please forgive any translation errors):  
> "Obudź się, złodziej" - Wake up, thief  
> "Pierdolić! Dałeś jej za dużo" - Fuck! You gave her too much  
> "Pieprzyć się! Dałem jej standardową kwotę" - Fuck you! I gave her a standard amount  
> "Pieprzyć to z suki," - Fuck it out of the bitch  
> "Świetny pomysł" - Great idea  
> “Co do cholery?” - What the hell?  
> “Niech śmierć zmiłuje się,” - May death have mercy  
> Also, the Red Gang is a nod to the real life Purple Gang, aka Sugar House Gang, from Detroit. They were active from 1910-1930's. The more you know!  
> \-------------------------------------------  
> AN: Sorry for being AWOL. I just got a new job, and I'm in my last year at college, and it's been really kicking my ass. I've written and re-written this chapter so many times, and I think I'm finally at a point where I'm okay with it.  
> But I should be updating more regularly from now on, so here's just under ten thousand words of me trying to make it up to you.  
> Thank you for being patient with me and my story though! I appreciate all of the kind feedback!  
> Cheers!


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